Heritage of Zestra III
by Alexander Degtyarev
Summary: The story of how a girl was turned into Dreadnought to travel trough the Imperium alongside a Techmarine to restore his destroyed Chapter to it's former glory. Read to find out where the Emperor leads them.
1. Chapter 1

This story came about when I found a thread on /tg/. The OP had posted a picture of a girl with all limbs amputated and 'recovering' in a hospital, along with the question what the Anonymous of /tg/ would do to restore her body to full function. Many an answer was given, amongst which of course was the mention of a Dreadnought. I have never really written anything, but that link just clicked, and I started. The result of that is what you find below.

I am not really much of a writer, obviously, and I dont really plan to be, but hopefully enough of one to get my story across.

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><p><strong>Chapter 1<strong>

Zeruel was lost in thought, sitting down with his legs crossed and his back supported by his Servo-arms. He was staring at the Mechanicus-red primed dreadnought in front of him, unsure of the color he should be painting her armor. She was asleep and didn't want to wake her up. and there was nobody left on the Battle Barge he could ask. It was cold and dark, most of the ship's life-support systems had failed and only a few chambers are still habitable. This wasn't what bothered Zeruel. What bothered him was how his entire Chapter had been wiped out.

Though Unforgiven, the Angels of Doom were a proud chapter. No matter what, they would not yield an inch to the enemy, especially not because this battle was to defend their homeworld Zestra III. Zeruel was not like this. He was the only one recruited from a different world, a trial for their suitability. At least, he was the only one from that world who was genetically compatible with the Chapter's Gene-seed. He was always the most level-headed of the Chapter and they never really managed to get that out of him. He never really fitted in, which meant he never progressed in the ranks of the Chapter. He decided to become a Tech-marine instead as the Chapter didn't have a lot of them and because he found comfort in the more logical approach the Mechanicus advocated. It was only 3 years before the Chapter learned of the impending attack on their home planet when he returned from his training on Mars. The Angels Immediately ordered their entire fleet to return home, and they even made it before the Orks arrived. They set up defenses and waited for the attack. When it came, nobody expected the sheer amount of Orks that had joined the WAAAAAGH! The war lasted weeks, and Zeruel's role in it was to will the spirits of the Chapter's war machines to continue fighting after they had been damaged. As such, he never saw most of it. He never saw Interrogator Chaplain Leliel fall, nor was he there when Grand Master Iruel fell. Even the only Battle Brothers he ever really talked to, Gaghiel and Ramiel, died in battle while he was repairing a First Company Land Raider, completely ignorant of their ends. He worked in a repurposed manufactorum that previously built shuttles for the nearby star port, and he only found out how badly they were losing the war when the Orks broke into the structure. The Angels of Doom would not retreat even now and dedicated all Marines that were left to defend it. They succeeded, but at a high cost. Many of them died, and so did the manufactorum personnel. The last day of the war dawned, and the civilians of this Hive city were reportedly the only ones still alive on the planet. To support the Angels they were all put to work in the manufactorum, regardless of age. Both sided had been severely weakened in the weeks long combat and the Orks prepared for a final siege. The Marines fought harder than they had in the weeks before, for failing here meant losing the war, and the end of the Chapter, but despite this the number of Orks was too great, albeit by a small margin. When they entered Zeruel's workshop, they had killed all of the improvised manufactorum personnel. All, except the girl who was sent to deliver the final component of the Razorback Zeruel was repairing. She was maybe 14 years old and struggled to drag the heavy Astartes plasma gun behind her. Normally a Razorback is fitted with a twin-linked plasma gun next to it's Lascannon, but this was the last gun left. Zeruel didn't notice the girl's screaming until he finished mounting the gun. He looked up to see an Ork push her out of the way to climb on the Razorback. Zeruel grabbed it's head with his servo-arm and crushed it's skull with a loud crack. He got into the vehicle to gun down the Orks that tried to follow the first and proceeded to ram the rest. He didn't realize the fight was over until he noticed the girl was still screaming now that the noise of combat had died down. He found her in a large machine, pushed in there by the Ork. The machine's heavy cover was taken off as a makeshift armor plate for the Razorback. and it's heavy gears were exposed. As he saw her stuck in it, he reached in with his servo-arm and grabbed her by the waist. Her arms and one of her legs got crushed by the machine's gears, and while Zeruel was no Apothecary, he knew she would soon die. Normally he had more pressing matters to attend, but with characteristic speed he deducted that, if this was the last stronghold, and there are no more Marines, nor Orks, nor manufactorum workers, he and the girl would be the only two people still alive on the planet. The only way he could think of to save her was to amputate her crushed limbs, and quickly close the wounds, somehow. Cutting off a few appendages was no big deal for a Space Marine, but it took him a while to think of a way to close the wounds. While he got to work with his combat knife, his servo-arm held a small piece of sheet metal, which he heated with the flamer arm of his servo-harness. by the time he had cauterized her wounds, she had passed out from blood loss and sheer pain.

They had lived on that world for some months, all alone. During that time, Zeruel had been repairing a shuttle so he could return to the fleet. What he would do then, he didn't yet know. While the ships had all been destroyed in the assault, not all of them had catastrophically exploded. It didn't take him long before he could get the air scrubbers working on the Battle Barge he had docked with. At least in a few chambers. There was no way to repair the heating with the tools he had, however, so Zeruel carried the girl with him all the time. She sat on top of his power armor's backpack, where he held her in place with his servo-arm and where the waste heat from his suit's reactor core would keep her warm. In the months they managed to survive on Zestra III, the girl had not spoken a single word. Zeruel could understand this, he was fairly shocked himself and even now he could hardly believe what happened. He had wanted to put her at ease, and maybe keep the time on his dead Brothers' homeworld from becoming too boring for her, and thus he told her long stories every day. Sure, most of the stories he knew were of war, and occasionally from his time with the Tech-priests on Mars, but he had a lot of them and had yet to tell a story twice. During their second day on the ship she had finally talked. "Sachiel." She had whispered softly. Her name. Zeruel was surprised to hear a name that he only knew the Angels of the Unforgiven Chapters used, but it turned out it was common to do so on Zestra III, being the Angels of Doom homeworld. He had told her of his sergeant when he was still a Scout, whose name was also Sachiel. Days continued like this for a while. He would tell her more stories, and she would ask about them. A month ago she had asked Zeruel if he could do something about her unending pain, but he could not. During their talking, Zeruel had carried her around the areas of the ship that had oxygen, showed her around while he fixed anything he could. Two days after her question, they passed the storage chamber for sleeping Dreadnoughts. A single Dreadnought was still standing there, powered down. It's inhabitant had died in battle when the sarcophagus was struck by a Tau railgun. The Dreadnought was recovered, and the damage easily repaired, but it had yet to find a new owner. And then it struck Zeruel. You needed to be a Space Marine to wear their power armor, and to be a Space Marine, you had to be a man. But not for a Dreadnought, which were designed to function with merely an intact brain and central nervous system. He powered up the chassis to function as a heat source, and left Sachiel with it before he went to the Librarium, which did not yet have it's air scrubbers repaired. He spent a week and a half to learn everything an Apothecary would normally do, in theory, anyway. Normally the process doesn't take very long, but Zeruel had only one shot, and nobody to help him, which is why it took him until last night working non-stop to fuse the girl with the machine.

They slept, and the next morning Zeruel was sitting in front of her, supported by his servo-arms. He wondered if he would paint the Dreadnought in his Chapter's colors, a dark purple with bright green trims that would glow in the night so they could always keep track of each other. But his Chapter had been destroyed, and Sachiel was not exactly a part of it either. He would probably just wait until she woke up and simply ask her, and since they would not be going anywhere anytime soon, they had all the time in the Imperium to decide.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

After what seemed like hours, but could just as well have been minutes or days because Zeruel had lost all sense of time, Sachiel awoke. "Zeruel, you're tiny." The Dreadnought spoke and a pulsed screeching noise came from its vox. As soon as Sachiel realized what hideous noise her giggle produced she abruptly stopped. Zeruel had taken his helmet off somewhere during the time he stared at the armor clad girl and now forced a smile to his scarred face. It's not that he was shocked, or even just surprised, he had been with the Dreadnoughts for years as a Techmarine, and he tended to take a liking to them even before that. It's just that a Space Marine smiled only rarely, if at all, in Zeruel's experience. Perhaps there were Chapters where it was more common, but he did not know them. "It must be disturbing to hear yourself speak with that new voice, or vox I should say, isn't it?" The Tech-marine said. The Dreadnought remained silent until Sachiel realized she could no longer silently nod, and had to reply "Yes". She also thanked the Emperor he could not see her embarrassed face anymore. "There's no reason to be so shy, for a Dreadnought you have a surprisingly... " Zeruel looked for the right words. "... gentle and, well, girlish voice. Although I guess it may not seem like that to you." It was silent in the chamber for the longest time, until Sachiel finally decided to speak again. "Zeruel, what.. what happened to your face?" It was the first time she had seen it during their time together. "It's what happens when you do the Emperor's work." He replied simply. Sachiel wanted to get closer, and take his face into her hands, but when she heard the clang of her first step, she once more became aware of what her body had become. She had been reaching out with her close combat weapons, but now they hung down uselessly. She had been built into one of the Imperium's most powerful war machines, but the power to show anyone she cared about them was one she no longer possessed. Zeruel had long forgotten what it was like to be cared for, so he pretended he hadn't noticed.

"Say, Zeruel, what will we do now? Are we going to stay here alone?" Sachiel asked a few days later. Zeruel sighed. he had given the issue a lot of thought. Mostly, he had been trying to come up with ways to restore his Chapter, but he had no means of extracting the Gene-seed from his fallen brothers on Zestra III, and even if he did now, their bodies would be mostly decomposed by now, it had been months after all. He could not extract it from himself either, since one had to be either dead or heavily sedated to have the Progenoid gland removed. If one was neither, he would bleed to death in the process. "I don't know." He replied honestly. After a pause Sachiel spoke again. "You told me you were the only one from a different world. Why don't you go home?" The Marine looked up at the Dreadnought, now painted in the Chapter's colors. She said she would be honored to wear the colors of those who died to protect her, even if they could not save anyone else, and she would wear them with pride. "Are you not coming?" He replied. "I.. I will if you'd let me. I just meant... It's not my home." Zeruel stared at her, contemplating her plan. "Don't you miss your home?" She added. "Because, I.. I really miss mine." She did not know if she could still cry, but she did not want to produce another sound like she did when she laughed so she tried to hold it either way. "We might as well do as you say." He finally answered, but even if I could find a ship with a working Warp drive and Geller-field, we have no Navigator." He stood up, having realized something, and made for the Librarium with haste. Sachiel, no longer needing air, followed him in a more gentle pace, and found him there with a dusty old tome in his hands, and another held open by each of his servo-arms. It was technically possible to travel trough the Warp without a Navigator, although only short jumps could be made due to greatly reduced accuracy. The last thing Zeruel wanted was to emerge from the Warp inside of a planet. For the next few days, Sachiel watched him cross-reference many of the leather-bound tomes, making notes in them, without saying anything to him, except when she brought him supplies from the shuttle on which they came. He had told her a Space Marine can go without water and food much longer than a normal man, but she still wanted to make sure he ate enough. She said it would be easier for him to concentrate. She would've made him proper meals, but she hadn't had the hands to do so for nearly half a year now. Zeruel had learned many things during that time he otherwise wouldn't even have thought of, but now there was nobody else to rely on.

When Zeruel finally got the Battle Barge's scanners working, he had quickly found a ship with the necessary equipment in near-working order. Nothing he could not fix, given enough time. It took him three more months to get the ship ready for travel, during which he often thanked the Emperor, or just as often the Omnissiah, being a Techmarine meant worshipping both after all, for the massive strength of his young companion. Sachiel was happy when she could finally do something to help, too. They had renamed the Hunter class Destroyer, a signature warship of the Unforgiven, the "Heritage of Zestra III". Hoping to find an Imperial world where they could find a Navigator, Zeruel and Sachiel started their journey from one end of Segmentum Pacificus to the other.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Sachiel was finally getting used to her new body. Movement started to become natural to her and she did not mind her mechanical voice as much as she did before.

Entering the Warp went smoothly enough, and the Geller-field seemed to hold out the demonic influence of the Immaterium as well Zeruel could ask for. Still, sometimes howling could be heard, shadows seemed to move or things seemed to fly past the ship's cathedral-like windows. For a girl of Sachiel's age, even entombed in a walking tank, that was still frightening enough that she hid in a corner of the ship and covered her sarcophagus with her power claws. There was not much Zeruel could do to put her at ease, he had to constantly monitor the ship's course in absence of a Navigator, and he was constantly fighting the Heritage of Zestra III's controls so that the Destroyer would not be swept away in the erratic streams of energy, perpetually apologizing to it's machine spirit as he did so.

As a result of the short jumps they could make, they would not normally stay in the Warp for long, however, much to Sachiel's relief. With a loud abysmal scream that almost drowned out Sachiel's, despite her powerful vox unit, they rematerialized in realspace. Zeruel approached her, but had no clue how to calm her down. This is the first time he saw a Dreadnought be afraid of something, or a girl for that matter. Her screaming had stopped, but she still covered the optical sensors in her sarcophagus. Zeruel put his hand on one of her power claws, and gently pushed it down. She did not resist, even though it would be as easy for her as breathing used to be. She looked Zeruel in the eyes and asked "Is it over yet?". Silently praising the Omnissiah for his guidance, Zeruel nodded. "We're in the Kaiyodo system." He said to her to change the topic. "We're almost in orbit around Kaiyodo IV. We need to stock up on supplies there." Sachiel got back on her feet. "I'm sorry I couldn't do anything to help during... *that*". Zeruel turned around and started moving towards the shuttle bay. "There was nothing you could have done anyway." He said over his shoulder. "But I can use your help soon enough, if you don't mind." With neither of them saying any more, Sachiel followed him to the shuttle. From there, Zeruel contacted the spaceport on the world below for permission to land. The spaceport operator was surprised to hear an Astartes ask for permission to land, in all stories he had been told the Space Marines basically did as they saw fit, however, he was more than happy to oblige. Zeruel pressed some runes on the console before him, and willed the machine spirit into coordinating the landing automatically. The flight down was quick and effortless. They had landed on a Forge World, Sachiel noticed. She had learned about those in school a few years ago. Apparently Forge Worlds are run by worshippers of the Omnissiah, which was supposedly borderline heresy. But Zeruel also worshipped the Omnissiah, and Zeruel was nice, so it could not be so bad, could it? "Zeruel" She asked. "Why are we on a Forge World?" Zeruel stepped out of the shuttle and answered her. "Several reasons, the most important one being we need some parts for maintenance, as well as new weapons. This was also one of the easiest destinations to travel to from where we were and it's directly on our route home."

Outside the shuttle a crowd quickly gathered around the duo. Sachiel took a step back, feeling intimidated, and nearly stepped on someone behind her. She carefully turned around and apologized. "I'm sorry, I'm really sorry. Are you ok?" Her vox boomed. The young woman nodded with a pale face and slowly got up again. She had fallen but not sustained any injury. Sachiel turned to Zeruel. "I don't like this." She told him. "I don't want this." Zeruel shot a gout of flame from his flamer-mechadendrite into the air, and everyone around them took a few steps back. "My apologies, people, but you should not come too close to my companion. As you saw earlier, it can be quite dangerous." Not a second after Zeruel had said that, the crowd made way for a robed figure, heavily augmented. They greeted, and exchanged a series of long and short beeps, which later Zeruel translated for Sachiel and explained was a type of Lingua Technis. "My apologies for the unprofessional behavior of my subordinates." The figure had said, a Magos according to Zeruel, who replied "I'm the one who needs to apologize. Had I been sufficiently prepared for this situation, my show of force would probably have turned out to be unnecessary." To Sachiel, the both of them seemed to be on fairly good terms, and she attributed that to their shared faith.

"I have come to procure parts and supplies, Magos." Zeruel said, getting right down to business like most in the Mechanicus do. The Priesthood would always supply the Astartes with such goods in return for nothing more than the knowledge the find, and rumors they hear, of Standard Template Constructs. Such a construct had to be incredibly valuable to them, Sachiel thought. She would ask Zeruel why some time. "Follow me." The Magos simply said, seemingly expecting the request. Zeruel signed Sachiel to follow as well and she did so silently. They had landed right next to the warehouse area, not a coincidence, Sachiel quickly realized. Zeruel and Magos Lorentz, as his name turned out to be, discussed the full list of supplies they would procure. Even though she couldn't understand any of what the two were talking about, Sachiel did not have the time to be bored. A Forge World was very different from the Hive World she came from, and there was plenty to be seen all around her. After a short while the Lorentz lead them into one of the warehouses. It was a giant hall, larger than any Sachiel had seen in her admittedly short life, filled with many large crates. "Wow, this place is huge!" She exclaimed as cheerfully as her vox allowed. "Quite easily impressed for an Astartes, and a Dreadnought no less." The magos spoke in High Gothic. "I eh.. I've never actually been on a Forge World before." She stammered in reply. "It was eh.. never part of a mission." The Magos accepted her answer without giving it much thought which caused Zeruel to visibly sigh in relief. Sachiel did not really know why she had tried to hide what she was, but seeing Zeruel's relief it was probably the right thing to do. She would ask him why that is later too but he never gave her a clear answer so she dropped the issue. In the mean time, Zeruel had prepared some nyloplas band that he told Sachiel to grab and lift the crate with that it was wrapped around. He repeated this with a second crate and he took a third for himself with both his servo-arms. As per his instructions, she followed Zeruel back to the shuttle to load the crates. She looked at the crates, trying to read what was written on them. In High Gothic, the first said "Twin-linked Lascannon, Dreadnought mounted" while the second read "Missile Launcher, Dreadnought mounted". She was no expert, but those sounded like some kind of weapons to Sachiel. "Zeruel, are these... weapons? For me?" She asked him. "And ammunition." Zeruel added. "I thought you meant food and water when you talked about supplies. Even if I don't, you still need those, right?" Zeruel nodded. "We'll pick those up too, but there's a few more of these crates first." Zeruel's words ironically filled her with dread. She had never expected she would need to fight, or kill, yet now she was carrying weapons in crates large enough that she could have hidden in them when she was still a girl. She had not given it any thought, and as a proper girl, she never was supposed to fight. She was supposed to marry into wealth to support her family, and had thus always been raised to be gentle and caring.

By the time they left the planet, they shuttle had been crammed full with more weapons and munitions, with barely any space left for the food and water Sachiel had to remind Zeruel to acquire. All in all, they had gathered another Missile Launcher and Twin-linked Lascannon, two Twin-linked Heavy Bolters, two Twin-linked Autocannons, an Assault Cannon, a Plasma Cannon, a Multi-melta and a Heavy Flamers, along with ammunition where applicable, as well as heavy armor plates. Zeruel had said he wanted to be ready for anything. "Zeruel..." She started slowly. "I'm happy you got so many... things for me, but do I really have to fight?" "To be honest with you, I hope you don't, but we don't always get to decide what happens." Sachiel remained silent. "You don't know any of the tactics necessary for using these in battle, or even how to operate them. You have no experience in fighting, or any knowledge of it, it seems, and you'll probably hesitate at important moments. That said, I'll take any increase in chance of survival we can get, and it's best to be prepared. Don't worry, I'll teach you personally." Sachiel was not sure whether or not she should be happy with that, but at least Zeruel didn't plan for her to fight any wars. "I don't want to see anything like what happened back home ever again." She told him. "People only ever die. I don't want to die. I don't want you to die either." It was Zeruel's turn to remain silent, he had no idea what to say, or what to think of what she said. There had been little other than war on his mind for most of his life. There was not much else that he knew. It was also one thing Sachiel knew absolutely nothing about, short of it's price, counted in millions if not billions of lives. He heard a sound similar to the first time Sachiel woke up in her metal shell, except it was a much lower pitched sound. "So Dreadnoughts *can* cry." He thought, and looked the other way, not knowing what to do or say to her. She stopped crying when Zeruel pointed out to her they had arrived back on their hardly void-worthy ship. "You should remember this pain." He finally told her. "Remember it in honor of those who have fallen. Remember it when we have to face more of those filthy xenos, and do unto them before they can do unto you." Sachiel gave his words some thoughts as she helped unloading the cargo again. "But why did they attack us in the first place?" She asked. "What did they hope to gain from us?" "Nothing really." Zeruel answered casually. "Just a good fight. All Orks really care about is fighting. They don't care if they'll probably lose, nor if billions of either side, innocent or otherwise, die in the process." Zeruel's voice changed, filled with contempt and shaking with anger. "They're too stupid to care. To them we're nothing but toys." The crate he carried cracked under increased pressure from his servo-arms before he regained his calm. "There's not much anyone can do except destroy them before they return the favor." Sachiel remained silent the entire time they were unloading. When they were finished, she asked Zeruel to show her the contents of the crates. "Can you show me what's in these? I'll have to use them, right? I don't want anything like what happened at home anywhere again, so how do I use them?" Zeruel looked up at her. "Are you finally willing to fight?" She stroked along the edge of the crate in front of her with her power claw. "I'm not, I'm scared. But I'll have to, I'm even more scared to see any more people die for nothing." The answer seemed to satisfy the Techmarine for now. "I think it's best if we start with that crate in front of you then. Long range weaponry is the least personal, and you can attack the xenos from relative safety." He opened the crate and put the lid against the wall of the storage chamber. Revealed to Sachiel was a double barreled weapon. The barrels were long, made of shiny polished metal, and at the end were 2 vertical slits on each side. The other end of the barrels were connected to what looked like a replacement arm with two large drums, no doubt to contain the ammunition. "These are Autocannons." Zeruel explained. "Normally the barrels are shorter, but according to the Magos those were on low supply so they used the longer variant generally used to shoot down aircraft. You'll have much reduced mobility in close quarters, but the range is extended by roughly 50% in return. You can engage most enemies long before they can return accurate fire." Sachiel looked around the storage chamber. "You said we have two of these, right?" Zeruel nodded. "The so-called Mortis Pattern Dreadnought always employs two of the same weapon systems. These loadouts are great for specialized tactics, like the long range engagements we'll start with. Alternative loadouts are Heavy Bolters against large hordes of weaker creatures, Missile Launchers for when you need some variety and Lascannons against huge creatures and armored vehicles. High power weapons like the Plasma Cannon and Multi-melta, and the Assault Cannon with it's huge ammunition supply are only available in combination with one of your claws or the Missile Launcher." Sachiel had already found out that Dreadnoughts easily store and remember information, but she tried her best to pay attention nonetheless, as it was a lot that Zeruel was telling her. He told her what all the weapons did, how they were operated and maintained, and some basic tactics to employ them with. Of course, theory is useless without practice, so he told her they would train with live ammunition once they touched down on a suitable planet. For now though, he had equipped her with the still unloaded cannons and told her to get used to the firing controls and targeting systems using a simulation program.

Zeruel sat down in his trademark way of sitting, resting on his servo-arms and directed a whispered prayer to the Emperor. "Please show me a sign, tell me I'm doing the right thing." He asked Him on Terra while Sachiel ran around the large halls of the ship, chasing after generic targets that Zeruel modeled in the program. He had foreseen that Sachiel might not benefit from shooting more realistic targets until she got used to the idea of combat. He shut off the visual sensors of his helmet to focus only on the readouts from Sachiel's simulation. "Hits: 32. Misses: 514. Friendly fire: 5." He sighed, having a newfound respect of the Scout Sergeants' patience in training new recruits. This was going to be a long journey.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

"I would've turned 15 today." Sachiel told Zeruel with the mechanical equivalent of a sigh, a low hum that leaves small objects vibrating in their own resonant tones, when she noticed Zeruel returning from his morning prayers. The Marine looked up at her with a raised eyebrow. "You speak as if you have died." He grabbed his dark purple helmet and as he put it on, the eyes started glowing a bright phosphorescent green. He accessed the simulation cogitator, as he did every morning and evening the past few days, ever since he began running his young companion through the program. "That's what it feels like." Answered Sachiel. "I won't ever see my friends and family again in any case, or anyone else that would remember my birthday, or even my existence." She knew she could not make any new friends either. Even if they touched down on a planet, they would leave again soon after.

With the loud clanking of metal on metal, the Dreadnought walked into the same room Zeruel has just came from. It was a small room, especially for a Dreadnought, and seemed to be used for storage of the crew's las-carbines. Most of them were sucked into the Void when they were praying in the ship's shrine and a lance, probably looted from an imperial vessel, hit it and destroyed it in the process. In lack of a shrine, Zeruel had repurposed the small room for his daily prayers. He found what was probably the last depiction of the Emperor not yet lost like most other things on the ship and put it on a makeshift altar. Zeruel was sure He would understand that this was all he could do at this point in time. He asked Sachiel about the nature of her prayers. She answered, "I'll pray that I never have to use these..." as she fired her cannons upwards in the simulation program. On Zeruel's helmet display the miss-count increased by four. "..these.. weapo-.." She nearly finished. "Oh. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that." She knew full well that weapons were a Space Marine's life. Even now, Zeruel always made sure the promethium canisters of his flamer-mechadendrite were full and he always had his holy bolter with him, the maintenance of which was a daily ritual. "I'm really grateful for what you and your brothers did, but... I don't think I'm the right person... machine... whatever, to do the same. I can't even bring myself to hit simulated targets." With that she disappeared in the small room, leaving Zeruel to wonder what he should think of her words.

He did not know, but he could not blame the girl. The Astartes knew not much more than war, but even Zeruel understood that if one had not been trained for something, anything, one would have a very hard time doing it. It still frustrated him. He felt he had to prepare her for the inevitable future. Sachiel would remain a Dreadnought until the day she was destroyed in battle, and there was not a thing anyone could do about that. He felt sorry for her, which was probably the same reason he saved her to begin with, but he had to do it for her own good, he decided. On his way to the bridge, he knocked on the door of the small makeshift temple. "Warp jump in T minus ten minutes." He said without entering and continued to ponder over Sachiel's words and what to say to her while he willed the ship's machine spirit into making the jump.

The jump was as quick as the first and those they had made in the days after, and Sachiel was no longer as scared as she had been the first time, but she had still made sure she was finished with her prayers and close to Zeruel when the Warp rift opened like a purple whirlwind in the void with a low pitched roar. "Today we are visiting another Forge World." He had told her. "Last time we did not get everything we need. I have already voxed them a request for the parts, and for an opportunity for you train with live ammunition." The Dreadnought's vox remained silent but Zeruel knew what she was thinking. "The parts are for the ship's propulsion. I should be able to increase our jump range by 14.82 percent. No more weapons, for now."

Sachiel was not sure whether she should be happy that they wouldn't requisition additional weaponry, or dread her training with live ammunition. Her simulations included the sounds of cannons firing, but not like she had heard them on Zestra III. Back then, she could hear the awfully loud bark of repeating cannons like her own from within the thick walls of the manufactorum. She could feel their roar in her gut. Not to mention the dreadful howling of missiles and the high-pitched sounds of lasweapons. The sounds in the simulation program were just representations, but now she had to relive that hell all over again, recreate it herself. In truth, she could have tried to escape her fate, and probably succeeded too, but as strong as her revulsion to war, so strong was also her desire to repay Zeruel, for saving her at the cost of his entire Chapter, and to live up to his expectations despite her very reasonable doubt in her ability to do so. As such, while she never hid her displeasure from Zeruel, she always trusted his judgment and did as he asked. It had come as a surprise to her initially, that despite being part of a strict military order for most of his life, Zeruel never demanded anything from her, nor commanded her. Every time he had wanted anything from her, he had asked, even if his request was not phrased as a question. She had asked him about it one time. "I am not a commander." He had simply answered. Sachiel could never eliminate the feeling there was more than the words' literal meaning in what he said, but she could not put her finger on it either.

Two hours after they had exited the Warp along with the howls and screams of demons, Sachiel and her rescuer had landed on Cherkava IV, the Forge World that Zeruel had spoken about. A semi-Forge World, to be precise. It was still under Imperial control, rather than belonging to the Mechanicus, but was well underway to be transformed into a single planet-sized manufactorum.

They had not found what they had expected. Fires burned on the west horizon of the spaceport, the thunderous sounds of battle filled the sky, accompanied by tracer rounds and lasbolts. Sachiel took a step back in shock and horror. A squad of soldiers from the Planetary Defense Force passed the shuttle the Astartes and his accompanying Dreadnought girl had arrived in when one of them turned his head and noticed the duo. "Guys! Look! It's the Space Marines!" He said to his squad mates, who abruptly halted and turned. "Emperor be praised!" They cheered. "We're saved!" Sachiel took another step back, towards the shuttle. While it did not escape Zeruel's enhanced senses, he chose to ignore it for now and ask the PDF what was going on. "What is the situation, soldier?" The man who had first noticed the Techmarine was armed like his comrades with an old M-Galaxy, Standard Cadian pattern lasgun, though Zeruel could spot the difference with trained ease; these were produced locally which made sense from a logistics point of view. He saluted the armored figure in front of him, despite not being an actual superior officer, and summarized the events of the past few hours.

According to him, the planet has increasing amounts of cultist activity disguised as simple riots against the Mechanicus takeover. When they learned there was more to it than aforementioned riots was when the cultists, raving mad as they were, assaulted the starport en masse to shed blood for their heretical god. The soldier also reported on the tactical situation in as much detail as was possible in a small amount of time. There were a few pillboxes equipped with heavy stubbers, but most of the PDF was on foot, making use of whatever cover they could find. This being a spaceport, there was a lot of that, but that also meant the cultists could appear from anywhere as it created a lot of blind spots. "I don't like this, Zeruel." Sachiel told him over his internal vox so that the PDF would not hear. As if in reply, he started telling the PDF what to do in his usual way of asking without ordering, but not expecting a "no" either. "I noticed you have several Hydra AA vehicles here, which means you have exactly the right type of 40mm munitions we need. Can you requisition some for us?" As the vox-equipped PDF soldier used the device to speak to their direct superior, access to use the Hydra's ammunition depot was quickly granted.

In the meantime, Zeruel finally answered his own vox call. "I'm sorry. This was not part of the plan. I'd hate to tell you this, but it seems the Emperor, in his infinite wisdom, has decided not to answer your prayers. There is no doubt that there is a lesson for you to learn here, for was it not you that said you no longer wanted to see innocent people die?" Sachiel froze, she had indeed said that. She meant it, but had definitely not expected to have to put her words into action so soon. Especially not against cultists, who were, while their minds were lost, still human. She had also said that she would wear the Angels of Doom Chapter colors with pride, and thus steeled herself, determined not to bring shame to those who sacrificed themselves to save a single life. "What do you want me to do?" She asked him, still on his internal vox. The Marine had answered aloud. "They are going for the promethium depot, judging by what the PDF told me. If they reach that and destroy it, the entire spaceport will be lit ablaze with no survivors, nor the parts we need." Sachiel looked around the spaceport. It was huge, and there were plenty of civilian craft awaiting take-off or landing, filled with passengers, held up by the heretics' assault. "Find an elevated position from which to give fire support. I'll be at the front lines to designate targets, but be watchful yourself. Your armor can handle their small arms fire, but if they carry anti-tank weapons, those targets have the highest priority. But first, we'll make sure your guns are loaded. Understood?" "I am ready." Was the reply.

Mere minutes later, Sachiel found herself on top of one of the control towers over looking both the promethium tanks and the direction of assault. She had lost sight of Zeruel, who was moving between freight containers large enough to obscure even him. His voice appeared on the vox at the same time that a red square box appeared over one of the assaulting cultists. "Priority target. Anti-tank weapon. Remember what it looks like, and pick them out even if I don't designate them. Fire short bursts." The link closed and Sachiel looked at her target.  
>Despite what she was told about heretics, they still looked so human. They had noticed her, unmistakably given the fact small caliber autogun rounds were ricocheting off her front armor plating. While her systems could feel the impacts, they were so weak they would never do any harm to a Dreadnought such as herself, but the loud sound of bullets striking thick ceramite startled her and she took a step back. When she got over the initial shock and stepped back, she focused her systems on the designated target. While this all had not taken more than a second, the cultist had his missile launcher aimed right at her and a warning siren sounded, indicating a lock. She could have easily killed him before he fired, but she hesitated. "Is it really okay for me to kill another human being? But it's to save more lives, innocent ones. Do I really have the right to take a life? But I can't disappoint Zeruel and his fallen brothers." This too took no longer than a second, but this time it was a second too much and the missile had left its launching tube. Sachiel's long barreled autocannons barked, once each, and the cultist with the launcher and several around him were reduced to shreds and a fine pink mist before the missile hit its intended target. Sachiel was blown back a few meters with a loud bang in which her shriek was lost.<p>

After the rockcrete dust had cleared, Zeruel voxed her again. "The Emperor was with you just now. That was a frag missile, meant against soft targets. Had that been a krak missile, you possibly wouldn't be standing up. On the other hand, you did a good job of eliminating the threat. Here's the next one." A new red box appeared in her system, displayed directly into her brain through the Mind Impulse Unit all Dreadnoughts are equipped with, and an orange box followed soon after. She noticed that if she concentrated on the boxes, more information would pop up. The first was carrying the same weapon as the cultist she had shot just now, while the one in the orange box was busy setting up what the system called a heavy stubber. The red box started flashing and the same alarm sounded as before. Not willing to suffer another blow like she had, or worse, Sachiel turned her guns towards the cultists and fired another burst. The red box disappeared and the alarm stopped while Sachiel moved on to the secondary target. A display in her peripheral vision lowered the count of her ammunition supply by one for each gun and the orange box disappeared as well. "What am I doing...?" She thought while two more boxes appeared.

In the meantime, Zeruel added his firepower to that of the PDF. His flamer had already run out of promethium and soon his bolts would run out too. Two cultists vaulted over a barricade with captured lasguns in hand. One's torso burst open as it was struck from one of the few leftover bolts, and the other had his legs cut off at the same time as Zeruel fired his plasma cutter. While firing at, and killing, a third cultist, he jumped over his own cover to finish off the legless heretic that was still twitching. A quartet of 40mm shells impacted very close to his current position. He turned around just in time to dodge a broken plasma gun, covered in blood and gore. He had no idea where the cultists got a hold of such powerful weaponry, but what he did know was that this meant the southernmost barricade had been overrun, and that Sachiel had quite possibly saved his life just now. "Long burst, same spot." He quickly voxed her instead of thanking her. That would have to wait for now.

As she obliged, a group of seven more cultists drew their last breaths. "Southern barricade breached, keep defending this place, I'll cover your flanks." He shouted to the PDF troopers, his voice still barely audible over the gunfire. "Sachiel, pick out your own targets like you did just now." She was shocked at hearing that. No way could she do this on her own. She couldn't even see any heretics with big guns to prioritize. "What are you waiting for? Forget priority, I need cover fire." His words snapped her out of her confusion and she searched simply for the largest group of cultists.

She found it running towards a green box that popped up from behind the containers. "Techmarine Zeruel" It read when she focused on it. Her eyes would have opened wide if she had not had her central nervous system entombed in a machine of war. Afraid to lose the only person left that she knew, she started unloading on the frenzied group that was covered in the blood of the PDF troopers they had overrun, and undoubtedly of their own fallen as well. She did not stop at a short burst, nor did she stop at a long burst. Her cannons barked and the sound of the explosions of impacting shells drowned out all the screaming and gunfire. After she had expended half of her remaining ammunition supply only a few of the attackers were still alive, only half of them still capable of fighting, and Zeruel quickly took care of them with a lasgun he had picked up, his empty bolter mag-locked to his belt. The assaulting force was broken and from this point on the operation was a cleanup, to kill the last few cultists that were still intent on pleasing their heretical god with their own blood if need be.

Sachiel and Zeruel had joined the PDF in their debriefing. The girl had wanted to know whether her actions had done any good amongst all the destruction. The troopers cheered as the two entered the warehouse where the debriefing was to take place. "700. Roughly 700 of our brave men was the price of victory today. 700 out of the 1200 stationed here." The warehouse was silent as the PDF captain continued. "Nevertheless, we should consider ourselves greatly blessed with this victory. Without these two heroes of the Adeptus Astartes, all 1200 troopers would have found their deaths, and so would nearly half a million civilians, in a fire that would have consumed the entire port. Your Divine Majesty, we thank you for this precious gift." The captain turned to the gifts he spoke of. "Would you two be willing to share your names with us so we can have them commemorated?" "Sachiel..." Spoke the Techmarine as he indicated the bearer of the name. "And I am Techmarine Zeruel of the Angels of Doom. I do not wish to be rude." He continued. "But we had intended to pick up supplies and spare parts here. We have a long journey to make." The captain respectfully bowed for Zeruel. "I shall see to it, you have my word."

During the entire time, lasting until the two had taken off from the planet with their cargo, Sachiel had not said a word, not even over the internal vox. In part because she was surprised to be called a hero, and in part because now that the fight was over, she had the time to realize what horrible things she had done, things very unfitting of a girl from Zestra III. A low hum emanated from her vox. "They spoke truth." Zeruel told her. "If not for us, they would have all died. And... If not for you, I'd have died. The cultist you picked out yourself carried a weapon that my armor would not have stood a chance against. I should thank you for that. You've far exceeded my expectations. I had not planned to get you to fight so soon, but as always the Emperor is a much better judge of people." Sachiel turned to him. "Is that really true?" The marine nodded. "Thanks, or... you're welcome, uhm... I don't really know what to say in this situation. But... I still feel dirty, like their blood is on my hands... guns... you know what I mean." Zeruel sighed and turned looked up at Sachiel. "Shall I perform the rite of cleansing when we arrive on the Heritage?" She answered simply. "Please do."


	5. Chapter 5

To respond to some of the reviews I have gotten:

**-** One asked whether I was a gamemaster for Rogue Trader or similar. The answer is yes, I GM a game of Dark Heresy every saturday, which is similar if not identical to RT in several ways. As the reviewer wondered, this could well be the reason for the low amount of dialogue. I'm not sure if little dialogue is good or bad, and I tend to simply use it where appropriate, but there's more of it in this chapter.

**- **Another also had a question. "Isn't using a dreadnaught for anyone but a hounored Space Marine hersey? I remember something like that being written in the codexes." Well, I dont remember reading anything like that, but I wouldn't call myself an expert either. I'd expect it to be heretical if there was a space marine that could be put in the dreadnought instead, but seeing as there was nobody left, it's hardly a waste of military resources anymore. Just my 2ct, if I'm wrong, please tell me, but I probably won't change the story for it. (I reject your reality and substitute my own, hah!)

- My 4th chapter was apparently "unreadable". While put a bit harshly if you ask me, I agree. I changed the chapter a little, and hope it's not as bad as it was.

Thanks everyone for writing reviews, the review-count is one I really enjoy to see increase.

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><p><strong>Chapter 5<strong>

"A mind without purpose, will wander in dark places." Zeruel finally said to break the silence. "Chaplain Bardiel used to tell this to us a lot." For the last day or so, Sachiel had not spoken a single word since the marine had performed the rite of cleansing on every component of her hulking metal body with great care. It had taken several long prayers to the Omnissiah, dozens of shorter ones, an entire vial of sacred machine-oil, blessed by the tech-priests of Mars and brought by Zeruel when he finished his training there. They were very small vials, but precious nonetheless. Dreadnoughts usually need such extensive maintenance only once every decade when they're inhabited and active. With the other Dreadnoughts of the Angels of Doom destroyed, however, the limited supply of sacred oil suddenly became enough for another century and a half. Zeruel paused for a few seconds, until he was sure Sachiel was not going to speak yet. "Tell me where yours is going." It was not a demand, but as usual it was a request.

"I can still feel it, the blood. They're haunting me. They're all blaming me for killing them. Hating me, and I can't even apologize. Countless families suddenly had their fathers, mothers, brothers and sisters torn away from them and I can't give them anything in return that could fill that void." Sachiel blurted out anything and everything that bothered her. "I've never planned to become like this. I was supposed to get married on my birthday, girls usually do so when they turn 15 on Zestra II, and while it was an arranged marriage, I've been friends with him for most of my life. We were supposed to make a family and grow old together, but I can't do anything of that now, not even age. You told me Dreadnoughts have been known to survive since the time of Horus. I'm not ready for 10.000 years of... this. I don't see how I could ever be."

Zeruel wished he had been suitable to be a Chaplain, it surely would not hurt to be one in a situation like this, he thought. He put his hands on either side of his faintly glowing helmet and twisted it a few degrees to the left. When he heard the lock open, he pulled it off his head. He sat down with his legs crossed and leaned back on his servo-arms, resting his helmet in his lap.

Zeruel had not given much thought to what life would be like with a girl in a Dreadnought, or for one, for that matter, until he had already saved her. He had been preparing himself in the many months they had spent together, but he still did not have the faintest idea how he should be dealing with her. He was learning as he went, and for now he decided to just be brutally honest. "To tell you the truth, I too have my doubts. You don't have the psycho-indoctrination we Space Marines get. You don't have the training or preparation. I'd say you have done incredibly well despite that, but if I understand correctly, that's exactly what's bothering you." Zeruel was looking for the right words. "Not even we particularly enjoy this life, in any case. I realize saying this now may be inappropriate, but finding joy in it would put us on the same level as those cultists who worship the Blood God. My brothers who died have not sacrificed themselves on Zestra III, they had already done so when they joined our ranks. Our lives themselves are sacrifices, to the Emperor, the Imperium, and Mankind in general. I pray that you too, in due time, will be able to accept that fact for yourself." Sachiel's vox produced a soft static, hardly audible to a normal man's un-augmented ears and Zeruel realized she was thinking about what he was saying. He stood up, carrying his helmet under his arm, and approached Sachiel. "I probably won't inspire much confidence telling you this, but I too have a hard time focusing my thoughts these days, even if I may not show it. I have no idea what to do about the loss of my Chapter, and thus how to avenge my brothers. There is no Chaplain who I can share my problems and strengthen my faith with. I have doubts about myself at least as much as you do. If anything though... You're not alone."

By the time he finished talking he was standing right in front of her. His words seemed to cheer Sachiel up a bit and he felt relieved. His hand reached out to her sarcophagus and gently patted it a few times. "You have done the right thing even if it may not seem like it now, and you have the right to be proud." Sachiel raised her power claw in front of her face. Zeruel had replaced the cannons immediately after the battle as Sachiel had trouble enough to deal with without constantly being forced to remember it. The claw's trims faintly glowed in the same green as Zeruel's helmet as she spun the claw on her arm, a reminder of her vow. "If you say so. You know more about that than I do. But... thanks. If you tell me to, I'll fight."

"We have reached our destination in the meantime." Zeruel said to change the subject. Sachiel had not even noticed the Warp jumps that lead them there, or their objective for this destination, for that matter. "What are we doing here?"

"I've told you, but I guess you were pretty out of it. We may find a Navigator on this world. If that's the case, then we'll be home in no time."

"Wow, really? I wonder what your homeworld is like."

"If things go according to plan, you'll find out soon enough."

Sachiel tried not to get her hopes up too much. During their months together Zeruel had often mentioned that plans never survive contact with the enemy, whether that be a real or a metaphorical enemy. The events on Cherkava IV were proof of that.

Karstus Majoris was a regulatory world. It held overarching offices of many of the Imperium's Adepta, and even the Inquisition's Ordo Xenos because they could easily requisition everything they needed from such a world. Karstus Majoris was the management center of the sector. From the shuttle it was hard to see the planet's surface due to its near-permanent cloudy and rainy weather. This in itself however suggested most of the world's surface consisted of water.

In order not to be caught off guard again, Sachiel had requested her guns to be loaded before they headed down to the surface, much to the surprise of her Techmarine companion. His surprise had soon made way for pride as he performed the rite of loading for each of the pairs of autocannons. He had also applied a fresh coat of paint to her armor after the previous one was stripped from it by a frag missile.

As usual on the world, it rained when Zeruel and Sachiel left the confines of their shuttle. The thick raindrops made a calming noise on Sachiel's ceramite plating.

"Gentlemen of the Adeptus Astartes, Angels of Doom Chapter if I'm not mistaken, welcome on Karstus Majoris." A woman with a tall figure, long black hair, pale skin and bright blue eyes greeted them. She was dressed as if it was sunny, emerald green robes with thick golden trims were draped over her shoulders, extending down to her ankles. On days like these Administrators tended to wear thick long coats. Zeruel could see she was with the Administratum because of the icon she wore; a capital I overlaid with an encircled lower-case a. It would not have been surprising for her to wear the clothes if it had not rained, the temperature was pleasant enough. What did surprise Sachiel though, and initially Zeruel as well, was that the woman before them remained completely dry. Thinking about it for a while, Zeruel concluded she wore a force field generator of some kind concealed on her person. Technology made for war, used to provide luxury to those who often had more money than a small city. "You are not mistaken." He answered while stepping forward. After taking off his helmet, despite the rain, he extended his right hand into the dry 'bubble' of the force field, rain streaming off of its spherical shape. "The name is Zeruel. This is Sachiel."

"Mila Solemnis. A pleasure."

People normally had the tendency to hesitate or flinch when expected to shake the hand of a man nearly half their own size larger, but not Mila. If anything, she shook his hand as if she had done so dozens if not hundreds of times before. "You have come to apply for the requisition of a Navigator, correct?"  
>"Correct."<p>

"In that case, please follow me."

Mila turned around and lead the duo to a large Administratum office building. On Karstus, large meant something too. The building was at least 600 meters wide, Emperor knows how far it extended into the distance, and roughly 80 stories high, occupying a space the size of an entire city block. The main hall took up most of the base floor, supporting the ceiling above it with massive round rockcrete pillars. The ceiling was high enough for Zeruel and Sachiel, with room to spare. Still, Sachiel did not enter out of fear of crushing the large stone tiles that made of the building's floor. "I'll wait outside, I like the rain anyway."

"Suit yourself, we have plenty of it here."

Sachiel bowed to the Administrator as she went inside with Zeruel.

"Mister Zeruel, in order to apply for a Navigator, I must ask you to fill out these forms in duplicate." Once they had sat down somewhere suitable for a Space Marine, Mila had given him a stack of paper bearing the icon of the Administratum in the top right corner, the Imperial Aquila in the left. "Once you have applied, the order will be processed within anywhere between two and five days if no problems are encountered. At that point a Navigator will be selected and made ready for you to take with you. You can leave the documents at the recepticum by the entrance. Do you have any questions?"

"None."  
>"Then please excuse me, I must attend to other tasks."<br>"You have my thanks, Administrator."

The rain filled Sachiel with a great calm, the sound of thick drops of water hitting her ceramite plating nearly hypnotizing. She felt like she was within her own little world, lost in her thoughts and prayers. She generally prayed for the same thing; that she would not have to see innocent people die, and that everyone she had to kill to ensure that, would do so as quickly and painlessly as possible. Whether or not they really deserved to suffer was a judgment that was for the Emperor to make, not for her. She prayed that one day her apologies would reach those she had slain. Whenever she doubted her ability to, and that was often, she also prayed for the strength to live up to Zeruel's expectations. So lost in these thoughts was she that she noticed Zeruel only when he spoke. "Sachiel, we're finished for today."

"Huh? Oh, eh... That's good. What now?"  
>"You seem distracted."<br>"I-I was just lost in thoughts for a while, prayers mostly."

"It is good pray, but it's our job to always be vigilant, even when it doesn't seem necessary."

"I'm sorry."  
>"There is no reason to apologize, but you'd do well to remember. The last thing we want is Charkava IV repeating itself."<p>

"You're right."

"And to answer your question: now we wait. The application has to be processed over the next few days."

They returned to the_ Heritage of Zestra III_ in orbit where Sachiel asked to have some of the other weapons mounted for familiarization. Happy with her positive developments, Zeruel gladly obliged and updated the simulation program to unlock the other weapons. He left the generic targets for now, weapons familiarization was more important than getting to know the various enemies she would have to face, though marginally.

First, the Twin-linked lascannons were introduced as medium-long range anti-armor weapons, also to be used against large types of xenos. Second were the missile launchers, the effects of which she had already experienced firsthand. Both could be used in a Mortis configuration, she recalled, but when she asked Zeruel had explained that combining the two gives her options she otherwise would not have, and it was simply a time-saving measure to train with both at the same time.

As she played around in the simulation program, for as far as either of them thought of it as playing, she noticed the lascannons would fire simultaneously, rather than following up on each other like the autocannons did. She also noticed the 'ammunition' supply for the lascannons would slowly increase after firing for a while, though never go beyond 50% of its maximum charge. Zeruel told her this was because energy weapons make use of two separate charge packs, one external for quick exchange, and one internal that feeds off her reactor core. He would let her find most of the weapons' features and side effects out for herself, claiming it to be the most efficient method of learning, up to a certain point. Her missile launcher had a rather low supply of missiles, she thought, and were mostly of the fragmentations variety, which was due to the lascannons doing most of the anti-armor work, she guessed. Correctly, as it turned out.

Sachiel had picked weapons she expected to make for quick deaths and Zeruel knew she would probably never get anywhere near a flame based weapon and it would take a great deal of time before she would be ready to start practicing close combat with the power claws. He sighed and left her to her own devices, leaving the chamber they call home to explore some of the ravished parts of the ship. He hoped to find a part he could turn into a makeshift shooting range for target practice with inert rounds. He kept monitoring Sachiel's training. "Hits: 232. Misses: 24. Friendly fire: 0." Despite the fact the weapon types skew the results, seeing as missiles could hit multiple targets with their explosive radius and lascannons were slow firing weapons where a single miss meant a great deal more than it did to autocannons, she did show notable improvement. Especially in the friendly fire department, he thought as he walked through the lonely vacuum of the breached hallways along the outer parts of the _Heritage of Zestra III_.


	6. Chapter 6

Thanks for all the positive replies again. I'm sorry I couldn't write this chapter any sooner, or should I say, start writing any sooner.  
>Like I said in the very beginning, I'm not much of a writer and not gifted with an infinite pool of inspiration. When it comes, it comes.<p>

There was also a review that talked about my detailed descriptions of weapons, and how that didn't say much for him as he's not 100% into the 40K lore. Part of the reason why I did that, in fact, is so that people who don't know every detail, still get a bit of an idea what the weapons do. Main reason, however, is simply that Sachiel is still learning about them herself. You're free to comment on whether or not it's good or bad what I'm doing.

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><p><strong>Chapter 6<strong>

Three days after the application, Zeruel found himself sitting in the halls of the Administratum offices, filling out a second set of forms now that a suitable Navigator had been appointed. This time, it was the Navigator, Maxim Tergalis, who did they actual writing for the armor-clad Angel of Doom.

Maxim was relatively sane for a Psyker, especially a Navigator, which implied extraordinary talent to control one's powers, or what is nigh infinitely more common: lack thereof as well as of the powers themselves. Maxim was one of the latter, but his low level powers, and as a result of that his relative sanity, made him easy to handle for the 1-man crew and the lone passenger of the _Heritage of Zestra III_.

"Finished." Maxim preferred to speak with single words whenever possible, lest he disturb his mind's focus on the erratic streams of the Immaterium.

"Good." Zeruel said, copying the Navigator's speech patterns as he grabbed the filled out forms from the table at which they were seated. Maxim quickly pulled his hand back, as if Zeruel was tainted with the rotting decay of Nurgle. Zeruel did not react to it. It had been mentioned in the Navigator's short biography that was included in the paperwork. At most points, however, it seemed more like a user's manual than a bio. Specific types of food were dictated for each day of the week, types of literature that he seemed to respond well to, his strange quirks, and etcetera.

Sachiel had waited outside the building again, still enjoying the near eternal rain of Karstus Majoris. Like last time, she did not immediately notice Zeruel coming through the great wooden doors, but as they shut close she snapped out of it and hopefully before Zeruel had noticed her lack of vigilance, she inquired about the scrawny robed figure next to him. "Is that him?"

If Zeruel had noticed, he did not show it, answering Sachiel's question instead. "His name is Maxim. He'll be... living on board the Heritage with us from now on."

The words "Nice to meet you.", sounding as mechanical as ever over Sachiel's vox, were accompanied by the Dreadnought making what had to pass for a bow.

"Likewise." Greeted the Navigator politely and he returned the bow.

Zeruel would have raised an eyebrow had they not been burned off a long time ago. Instead, when he thought about it, he reminded himself that Navigators were still people, even if the term "normal" does not apply to them and their habits. This was something that was easy to forget given the way the Administratum treats them.

Sachiel subtly lamented having to leave the rainy planet. It was the first time in many months that she had felt its calming effects due to being bound to their ship for most of the time. Having set foot in the shuttle, her armored bulk continued dripping, forming puddles below the muzzles of her lascannons which she was taught always to keep pointed downwards - a safety measure to prevent damage from the extremely unlikely event of an accidental discharge - and at her feet. She stared intently at the drops of water traveling down the length of her guns, one at a time. Despite the rain on Karstus Majoris being slightly polluted, which is visible in large quantities of water, the small drops of water seemed perfectly clean and sparkled in the red light indicating that the shuttle doors were closed.

Once on the bridge of the _Heritage of Zestra III_ the Techmarine spoke. "I assume nobody has objections against a slight detour?" He looked at Sachiel, directing the question to her in specific.

"What do you mean?" She asked in return.

"I mean that while I had you train, and in between my own training sessions, I made contact with a fellow Unforgiven Chapter that is operating a few sub-sectors away in the direction of Holy Terra. Maybe they can help us restore our Chapter to its former glory. They are still in the preparation phase of a large operation on a hiveworld taken over by the Tau. If we hurry we can still make it in time before they are too busy to concern themselves with us."

"No objections, sir!" She answered, copying a military type of speech from an Imperial Guard movie she had seen not long before the Ork invasion of her homeworld. It was her favorite movie, about the forbidden love of a Guardsman for his regimental Commissar, one of the very few women in that position.

Zeruel chuckled. "Well this is not the Guard. "Brother" would do just fine for an Astartes." He then turned to Maxim. "Let's make a short jump then to get you accustomed to your brand new job and this brand new ship." That got a giggle from Sachiel, who mostly got over the initial weirdness of the sound that produced. Zeruel never seemed to think of it as weird, so why should she?

"Ready." Sounded the vox connecting the Navigatorum to the bridge. The Navigatorum is a necessary evil, the small room shields the ship's crew from the dangers of a Navigator's third eye so that he can view the warp in all directions without worrying for the safety of those he is supposed to steer through the streaming energies of the Immaterium.

As navigational data appeared on the ship's hololith, Zeruel started the countdown to the jump and while a distorted, as if damaged, mechanical voice counted the seconds, a rip in space opened like a whirlwind of purple liquid energy and green lightning. The increasingly familiar howling was something Sachiel still had trouble getting used to, similar to how Zeruel still had trouble getting used to a shuddering Dreadnought, or even the possibility of that.

The jump, thanks to Maxim, would reach much further, but as a result take longer as well and Sachiel decided to continue her training in the meantime, hunting the shadows that seemed to move in the edge of her optical view range. In the end, it only served to unnerve her as she could never catch them.

After a day and a half of playing this tiresome game, a dark rift opened in the glowing streams and in a deafening roar the _Heritage of Zestra III_ left the Immaterium. As sensors readjusted themselves for realspace, the hololith started displaying information about the world they were orbiting.

Rabort VI - Class: Eta - Population: 241 870 000 000 - Gravity: 1.2G - More data

The report confirmed the point of re-entry of realspace to be correct and Maxim stepped back onto the bridge, his bandana back in place to cover his third eye. "Your navigational data was accurate. Well done." Zeruel told him. He voxed Sachiel wherever she was to head to the shuttle. In the meantime he hailed the Angels of Absolution vessel _Blade of Justice_ and requested permission to board.

15 Minutes later the shuttle doors opened and the two lone Angels of Doom were greeted by the Grand Master and his command squad. "I am Grand Master Achaiah. Well met, brother."

"Techmarine and Acting Grand Master Zeruel, and this is Brother Sachiel. It's an honor."

"So, you two are the only survivors of your Chapter?"

"Yes, the greenskins came in such great numbers that we found ourselves nigh evenly matched. As such, I have come to request your aid, Grand Master." Achaiah nodded. "We wish to restore our Chapter to its former glory, however long that might take, but I am not an apothecary and cannot transplant gene-seed into new recruits. I cannot risk my two progenoid glands by trying it myself no matter how much knowledge I manage to gather."

"It should be obvious that we cannot miss any of our trained apothecaries given the operation we are about to begin, but there is an apothecary in training. While he shows great skill, I'm not sure if he is right for our Chapter. If he is willing, and you would accept him, then I don't mind transferring him to the Angels of Doom and help a brother Chapter. That is, provided you help him complete and survive his mission. It's not an easy one, but I think this exchange is more than fair." Achaiah held out his fist in front of him.

"Then so it shall be. I thank you, Grand Master, and with me nearly a thousand souls that may finally find rest." Zeruel says as he bumps Achaiah's fist with his own with the sound of ceramite striking ceramite. "A thousand times thanks." Added Sachiel as she bowed. "We shall not disappoint." She radiated a confidence that only Zeruel could see she did not entirely believe in, or maybe he just knew. He felt pride nonetheless; she had grown a lot stronger even if she still had a long way to go.

"I'll send Brother Mebahiah, the one I mentioned, to the drop pod bays where you can discuss whatever you need in the 12 minutes before the drop."

"Seems like we made it just in time." The Grand Master grinned, then turned to one of his retinue. "Escort our allies, if you please."

"Yes, lord." The marine who had answered, carrying a powered-down plasma gun, stepped forwards towards. "Please follow me." He turned a quarter of a circle and left for the door and hallway that separated the shuttle bay from the drop pod bay.

The ship seemed so much more alive than the _Heritage of Zestra III_ did, but then again, the _Blade of Justice_ still had a complete crew and a full company of Space Marines on board. Zeruel and Sachiel listened silently to a short, makeshift briefing of the operation that was about to begin. "The main force is dropped directly into the capital hive, as far as the enemy who occupied it knows, it's just a simple purgation. In reality, it's a distraction with the added benefits of purging some xenos. Our real objective... Your objective, is a machine of war that has been buried in a facility now overrun with the aliens. You will drop into a valley south of it to avoid early detection and launch a surprise attack when their main force is occupied in the hive. We have reason to believe the personnel of the facility and the war machine are held captive, presumably to use them for their own heretical purposes. The facility used to store titans, but reportedly only one is still active and we have no intel on its type."

"I assume once we have re-captured the titan we are to lay siege to the capital hive from the outside?" Zeruel had fought enough battles to have a basic understanding of strategy.

"That's right. We'll drive them before your waiting guns, or vice versa, depending on who they're more afraid of." The veteran laughed confidently, as if victory was a matter of when, not if. "Your pods are number VI and VII. I need to go now, Emperor be with you brother."

In the drop pod bay, bone-white armored marines were entering a similarly colored drop pod. They were the Grand Master's veterans. Achaiah soon joined them. In pods next to that one, shaped differently with fewer, larger doors, were dreadnoughts who were having their final checks performed by Techmarines. The Terminators, making up most of the first company, tended to teleport into battle like they did in the Angels of Doom as well. As far as Zeruel knew, this was standard practice for the Unforgiven Chapters.  
>Sachiel was lead into a similar one by Zeruel, labeled VII. "What are these?" She asked Zeruel over internal vox. "They'll drop you onto the planet from orbit. Falling is the fastest and most fuel-efficient way of getting down, not to mention the safest." No doubt that last part was what Sachiel was most worried about. "Relax, we've been doing this kind of thing for ten thousand years, it's uncomfortable at worst."<p>

Zeruel and Mebahiah entered the neighboring pod, along with three more marines and a 5-man scout squad. One of the three marines, sergeant Jukar, closed the pod doors as everyone strapped themselves down and introduced himself to Zeruel. "The name is Jukar. You'll be under my command for the duration of this mission. Objections?" Straight and to the point, Zeruel preferred that. "None, brother sergeant." He answered.

"Sachiel." He spoke over his vox. "We'll be under the command of sergeant Jukar, obey his every command without question. You'll address him as 'brother sergeant'." Sachiel let it sink in and thought about it for a second, then answered. "Yes, brother Zeruel."

"That's the spirit."

The words "Drop in 3... 2... 1... Release." sounded from the pod's vox-caster as the lights in the pod turned red, and then green at "Release." as gravity seemed to simply stop working. It took Sachiel great effort not to scream.

Zeruel was right about one thing, at least. It was fast. In just a few minutes they had reached the surface within acceptable range of the intended drop point. Rocks clattered down onto Sachiel's pod, thrown into the air by her impact with the ground and while de doors were slowly opening with a hiss of hydraulics, the greyish brown dust cleared and the last few pebbles hit the ground where they belonged.

The scout snipers had already found a suitable vantage point overlooking the above ground part of the facility a few clicks to the north by the time Sachiel exited her pod and joined the squad that was receiving orders from their sergeant.

"And now we wait." He pointed to the still dark sky on the west horizon. "Until they start kicking enough ass to distract these here troops." Jukar pointed his thumb behind him. It would have been more practical to drop the main force before the small taskforce, but with a large swarm of drop pods and thunderhawks descending on the capital hive, Zeruel's and Sachiel's pods were more likely to go unnoticed. "In the meanwhile, we get into cover in the unlikely event that we were detected."

Sachiel prayed silently the entire time. Naturally the marines prayed as well, but in between prayers they were also constantly on the lookout and exchanging information with the scout squad. Sachiel begged the Emperor for the strength to do as ordered without hesitation so that she did not give away the secret that some might fail to understand, and thus consider heretical. Of course Zeruel never told her anything that specific, but it was obvious to her that it was a taboo. All Sachiel wanted was to repay Zeruel, and for that she needed the mental fortitude only His Divine Majesty could provide.

They waited for minutes that seemed like hours, then a vox-call from the scouts came in. "Movement. South exit, turning west. Counting... two tanks, three armored suits and two squads infantry. Looks like they took our bait."

"More importantly, brother, what do they leave behind?" Sergeant Jukar asked in response.

"Assuming an even spread of forces and extrapolating from the numbers visible on this side of the complex, they sent exactly half of what they had."

"That sounds like Tau alright. Move out."

With that order, sergeant Phatiel and his squad scouted a suitably covered path by which to approach the facility, and Sachiel stuck close to the marines following this path. Loose rocks under her massive feet caused her to nearly lose balance a few times when they failed to shatter under the great weight of her ceramite armor. She thanked the machine spirit within her mechanical body for their capability to correct her balance much more quickly than she could have as a human.

"Time to blow our cover... and some of their tanks. Sachiel, get in a position where you can see them."

"Yes brother sergeant." Sachiel had spent the short trip preparing herself to quickly and properly respond to an order. Zeruel sighed with relief when everyone was too busy paying attention to the enemy.

Sachiel locked onto every Tau and friendly unit she could see, red, amber and green boxes overlaying her vision. Secondary sensors would keep track of locked units, even behind her back, but she made sure to have all the red boxes where she could see their contents. "In position, brother sergeant, awaiting orders."

"Brother Phatiel, on Sachiel's mark. Brother Sachiel, fire at will."

The sergeant had barely finished speaking when the bright, slightly purplish blue light of ionized air connected the muzzles of the Dreadnought's lascannons to the turret of the Tau Hammerhead hover tank. Smoke rose from four holes in the enemy skimmer, two on each side, stacked vertically. Even before the tank's top half erupted in a small fiery explosion a second later, five blue skinned infantrymen had hit the ground, their tan camouflaged helmets pierced and leaking blood. From this close range the scout snipers had no trouble hitting a stationary target in the head.

From now on, though, they would be moving and seeking cover. As they did so, they fired un-aimed bursts of plasma bolts in the marines' general direction who responded with similarly suppressive bolter fire.

The fast and agile battlesuits were the first to reach cover and thus to provide accurate return fire. One fired his railguns at one of the tactical marines providing cover fire for the scouts. With a loud clang his right pauldron hit the rocks behind him, shattered nearly in two. It had stopped the hypersonic bullet, but only after it left the marine's shoulder on the backside.

A Space Marine's blood clots much faster than that of an average man, so the dark red stain on his bone-white armor soon stopped growing. As a testament to his resilience, he threw a krak grenade in the offending suit's direction with that same arm. A single short sprint was all it took for him to end up on the other side of his cover and escape the grenade's grasp of death, but Sachiel was waiting for this opportunity and the XV-88 found itself stopped dead in its tracks, pierced by another two white hot lances of light that incinerated its pilot.

At this point the troops on the other side of the building started entering the battlefield with guns blazing.

"Keep up the cover fire" Sergeant Jukar voxed, and then he and his scouts activated their cameleoline cloaks. Zeruel did not need to be told, he was already emptying another mag of bolt shells towards the advancing squad of fire warriors while he kept firing his plasma cutter at the first until it overheated and had to be deactivated to prevent permanent damage.

"Brother Sachiel, make them break cover."

After acknowledging the order, three missiles left their launch tubes and after the initial charge was depleted the main rocket motor propelled them straight into the air to arc down onto the targets indicated. Through the grey cloud of rockcrete dust and shrapnel half a dozen fire warriors vaulted their cover after that many more ceased to exist as anything recognizable.

They kept returning fire nonetheless and inevitably the bolts of plasma would strike true. The marine previously hit in the shoulder endured four impacts all over his body and red runes flashed in his helmet. The fifth hit struck his head and without a trace of it left; he dropped straight down, onto his back while blood reddened the rocks below him. He would be left there for the time being, a thunderhawk gunship would pick him up to have his gene-seed harvested.

At the same time, another Crisis suit launched his missiles at the marines' concealed position, saved by their armor but still driven from cover and ready to be cut down by railguns and plasma rifles.

"CHARGE!" Bellowed the sergeant. Without cover, marines have a clear advantage in close combat. While they ran, Jukar's left leg was shot clean off by the second hammerhead tank that had come around its own cover. The offense was avenged by the scouts who uncloaked behind the tank that found a melta bomb stuck to its hull where it joined the turret, a known weak spot on any tank. Needless to say that was the last shot it ever fired.  
>The two marines who were still charging came to blows with the leftovers of the first squad of fire warriors. There where they could not use their powerful rifles, they stood no chance against the armored might of Space Marine fighting with their bolters' solid rear ends, bolt pistols, and even their bare hands where appropriate.<p>

Jukar continued firing while prone; at the very least he tried to make himself a small a target as possible, which was not an easy task for an Astartes, while covering his squad.

When Sachiel saw the second battlesuit exploding at the far end of her lasbeams, she could not help but wonder where the third would be. At least, that was what the scouts reported, right? No sooner had she thought that and a red rune started flashing and an alarm started sounding. It was the same rune and alarm that she had seen and heard on the semi-forgeworld where she fought cultists of the dark powers. She physically remembered the shock and instinctively turned around. Right there on the rocks above her was the suit she was looking for and it had a weapon lock on her. In the split second since the alarm and turning around, she blindly fired two missiles directly at it, not wasting the time acquiring a lock herself. How could she miss at this range anyway?

The girl turned out right in her assumption, but she forgot to take into account the incredibly short range of the engagement and was blown on her back. The explosions occurred too far to actually damage her, but her systems were knocked out until rebooted which made her effectively blind and unable to confirm her kill or vox for support. Zeruel would have to paint her hull after this battle, again stripped bare by the heat and force of the explosions.

When her sensors were finally back online, Sachiel saw the results of the battle. Her desperate attack had worked, sort of. The stealthsuit had been knocked back 20 meters, which was hard enough to kill the pilot by G-forces alone, but Zeruel had made sure. Her vision restored just in time to see him rip open the suit with his servo-arms and send a gout of flame ravishing through the interior of the suit. The remaining squad of fire warriors was flanked and completely annihilated by the scouts.

"You're one crazy Dreadnought, brother Sachiel." Said the marine who was helping his sergeant up. "What were you thinking?"

Sachiel thought about it for a second. "That the Emperor really does protect if you pray hard enough." This incited a round of laughter and agreement from the marines and scouts.


	7. Chapter 7

I love all the positive feedback, thank you guys.  
>There was a mention of the action not being as clear as it could be, I really hope this chapter is better in that regard.<br>I also didn't think I really had much of a style, but apparently I do, hehe. Thanks for the compliment.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 7<strong>

Sachiel followed the small taskforce inside the utilitarian rockcrete building. Only a fraction of it was visible above ground, of course, because digging deep into the rocky crust of the planet was a much easier and cheaper way to fortify it against a frontal assault. A Dreadnought would not fit inside the hallways of a normal building, but any facility that worked with titans was abnormal by definition. Huge parts are often moved through the massive halls, making them often larger than necessary for even Sachiel's large bulk. The halls were even larger than those she had seen on the strike cruiser _Blade of Justice_ from which she had deployed. Instead, it was the scouts who remained outside to alert the taskforce of any uninvited guests.

Zeruel marched in the middle of the group, tactically the safest position. This was in part because he was the only one who could work with the advanced machines they were no doubt going to encounter, and the other reason was that he carried the wounded sergeant on his back with his enormous servo-arms. The sergeant steadied himself with one hand, and perpetually swept the hallways with the bolter in his other hand, its dark leather sling wrapped around his wrist.

In front of the group walked the two tactical marines, side by side, each keeping an eye on the other's side of the hall. Whenever the two encountered a room, the one on the room's side would open the door without exposing himself, while the other had his bolter ready to engage anything inside. Most rooms were completely empty, some had been for years, others were freshly cleared. A few rooms contained inactive cogitators, ancient technology that pained Zeruel when he saw half of it was broken.

While this was a thirteenth room they had encountered like that, Space Marines are known for their vigilance, and it was thus opened as carefully as the first. There is a reason for that, simply because you never know what could happen. This room proved that theory; two fire warriors had heard the footsteps coming closer. If not the marines' armored feet, then Sachiel's would have given them away. The fire warriors had thrown a plasteel equipment table on its side in front of the door for cover and to rest their weapons on, preparing to open fire as it swung open.

They managed to fire a shot each before automatic bolter fire perforated the thin sheet metal of the table. One missed and the other grazed the marine who, at the same time, pressed the firing stud on his waiting boltgun. The mass-reactive warheads exploded within the two aliens and what was left of the table was covered in blood of a color that reminded Sachiel of the beams her lascannons produced.

The marines entered the room encountering no more hostiles. Instead, they found a small group of facility personnel in a corner of the room who cheered loudly when they saw who had come to their aid. They wore the robes of the Mechanicus, and had varied levels of augmetics enhancing their otherwise frail human bodies. The one who seemed to be the highest ranked by virtue of being the most augmented of the robed figures, spoke knowingly. "So the God-Emperor has sent his Angels of Death. That means the xeno invasion was successful, was it not?" Before the marines could answer, shooting started back in the hallway and they quickly turned around to assist.

A volley of plasma blasts impacted on Sachiel's rear armor, leaving deep craters and gouges of molten ceramite, but was incapable of penetrating the thick plates. Despite the respectable cyclic rate of Tau pulse rifles, Zeruel and sergeant Jukar returned fire before the second volley. Instead of firing, the blue-skinned aliens ducked for cover. Jukar, being a veteran of many battles, felt there was something wrong and told the marines who emerged from the room's doors to cover their backs instead of assisting.  
>Had the sergeant called out to them a moment sooner, the volley of fire from the far end of the hall would perhaps have missed, but as it was, the first marine to step onto the rockcrete walled battlefield was hit in the back by half a squad's worth of pulse rifle fire and died before he even hit the ground.<p>

The other Astartes threw a frag grenade into the fire warriors as he shouted a vengeful battle cry and charged the Tau. "You will die for this cowardly act!" Immediately after he witnessed the blast of shrapnel take out a handful of enemy fighters, he emptied the magazine of his bolter into them, as much to suppress as to try and kill a few more before dropping his smoking weapons and engaging in hand-to-hand combat. As he ran, the hostile squad returned fire hastily, with shots grazing the marine and covering his armor in burns. They even hit the enraged superhuman in his side where the bolt of plasma penetrated the ceramite and burned its way through flesh, but they could just as well have been throwing marshmallows at him.

Sachiel was hesitant to fire missiles in close quarters again, and endured a few more hits on her frontal armor, acting as cover for Zeruel and Jukar whose bolters poked out alongside and over her respectively. A small message window opened in the corner of her vision, showing a graph of the audio-only vox-channel Zeruel had opened.

"Brother." He started to remind her of the situation she was in. "If you can get them out of cover, it would be much appreciated." Zeruel continued with a tone implying urgency. Her hesitation disappeared like snow before the sun; she had a debt to pay back.

The walls reflected the deafening sound of the large frag missile, and for a few moments the fire warriors were covered in a cloud of fine, dark grey dust. Because of that, there was no way to tell whether they had died or simply gone to ground to hide in the dust cloud. To be sure, she fired another missile into the hallway, directly into the ground.

More shrapnel and rockcrete debris flew through the hall and while he still had the advantage of cover provided by this, Zeruel advanced on the xeno squad. Halting a few steps before the increasingly large cloud, he expelled burning promethium from his flamer-mechadendrite and covered the hallway's floor and walls in flames. By the time the dust had settled, all that was left were a few burnt corpses and blackened pools of alien blood.

Zeruel turned around and advanced to the other marine's position, where he found him standing in the middle of a pile of greyish blue body parts and a large pool of the xenos' purplish blue blood. "Brother..." Zeruel began.

The marine turned around in response, realizing the situation. He bent down to pick up his discarded firearm and performed the rite of reloading. "Brother Mehiel and I have been together since we were recruited. There is nothing you can say to me now and make me feel better. He deserved a better death." His bolter made a satisfying metallic sound as he released the charging handle and a fresh round was pushed into the barrel. "He will be avenged." The bone-white Astartes turned to his fallen comrade. "I'll have to leave you here for now, but I'll be back to pick you up."

Sachiel looked upon the scene with mixed feelings. Space Marines never showed much emotion, but this marine had proved to her that they were not emotionless killers either. It put her at ease, because it meant she did not have to become one either. At the same time, she knew how the marine felt, how it was to lose those precious people close to oneself, yet she did not know what to say.

"Gentlemen." Zeruel spoke to the facility staff. "You have the chance to show your worth to the Emperor. As I heard one of you point out, the aliens have succeeded in their invasion, and while our main force is currently fighting the enemy's largest concentration in the capital hive of this world, we have been sent to acquire the weapon that is supposed to be in storage here. Your guidance would speed up this process considerably."

The same tech-priest who had deduced the situation stepped forward. "I will show her to you."

"Her?"

"We refer to titans by the gender of their princeps, since they, for all intents and purposes, are the titan. However, this is one of the biggest problems of a titan. As time goes by, the princeps will succumb to the bloodlust of the machine spirit, and will have to sacrifice their sanity in order to remain in control. Every so often we have to replace them entirely. This particular princeps has not quite reached that point yet, but there is not much left of her former self and instead speaks the desire of the machine. For this, I need to warn you. She has been entirely uncooperative for the past dozen years or so, claiming that none is worthy to replace Magos Viklar after he was called back to Mars for promotion and other duties, not even when I inherited his previous rank."

Zeruel nodded. "Bring me to her then."

A simply gigantic cylindrical chamber housed the equally massive titan, a Warlord class named Ruina Rabidus. Its bulky angular hull was painted a complex pattern of digital camouflage that blended together in such a way it looked like a more traditional pattern of camouflage from a larger distance. The main colors were various shades of grey with a few specks of white and black as only the large hive cities had cover huge enough for the titan to hide behind and pretend it was a building. Power cables and data-feeds ran from its back to a distribution box mounted to the facility wall behind it and a promethium fuel feed was connected to it a few floors lower. These floors surrounded the walking fortress at many levels like rockcrete rings, drawbridges leading to entry ports on its hull.

Zeruel wasted no time admiring the view, as much as he had wanted to. He immediately noticed none of the entry points were large enough to accept a Dreadnought, as he expected. There was no place to transport other units because a Warlord class titan consisted almost entirely of guns and their necessary systems. "Magos, what kind of air-defense systems do you employ on this base?"

"Hydra AA turrets on static emplacements. Why?"

"By my calculations Sachiel nearly ran out of missiles, and lascannons are not well suited for the expected engagement. Dismount the weapons systems from their housings and replace them with the autocannons. We've had great success with the long-barreled type in the past. Be sure to mount a large ammunition supply, we're going to need every last round we can carry." With those words he disappeared into the god-machine.

Magos Vantarn was surprised to recieve orders from a techmarine, even if they had not sounded as such, but as a friendly recommendation. Techmarines were completely outside the Mechanicus' chain of command, but it seemed as if Zeruel knew what he was doing so Vantarn shrugged and had his subordinates bring him the necessary parts on the double. He himself led Sachiel to his workshop, where he built and maintained internal components of Ruina's systems.

Finding the cannons was easy enough, any Imperial military facility has spares to replace those that have been destroyed and with the Tau occupation of the structure, they had yet to be replaced. The hard part was rigging them to Sachiel's weapon arms that were built for different weapons. They used similar data-feeds and control code, but the sockets would not line up properly without modification and the armor plates were formed to protect a differently shaped system. With a raised plasma-cutter mechadendrite, not unlike Zeruel's, he approached the girl. "This will hurt only a little." He joked. He had been fascinated by the biological effects of humor on people with varying amounts of augmetics.

"Who dares enter this sacred machine?" Vox-casters all around Zeruel spoke with a digitalized voice at high volume.

"Techmarine Zeruel of the Adeptus Astartes, the Angels of Doom, on a mission for and assigned to the Angels of Absolution. I have come to take you into battle, princeps." He kept moving through the hull towards the bridge, the head of the god-machine.

"You? Take me into battle? Hah, not in a million years will I dishonor myself like that. You Space Marines are barely allies, you don't even belong in our chain of command and I will not even consider you as a subordinate."

"Aliens have taken over this world, we have a good shot at a counter attack now that their forces are concentrated in the capital hive. Now, maybe my audio sensor-array malfunctioned, but I could have sworn you implied that you would rather let them live than fight them with me. I don't particularly enjoy implications of heresy." He kept on walking without stopping even once. The magos had sent one of the tech-priests to observe any progress Zeruel might make and he followed hesitantly.

"Threatening me now? Interesting."

Zeruel stopped a few steps before a glass tube filled with a slightly yellowish thick liquid. In the liquid floated the princeps' extensively augmented body. Her hands and feet had been replaced with data-feeds and a metal band was where her eyes once were, covering more feeds and most of the MIU that linked her mind to that of the huge walker. The parts of her body that still showed her wrinkly old skin, rapidly aged by the stresses of controlling the incredible machine, were covered for the most part by synskin, a body glove made from an inert material as to not dissolve in the fluid throughout the years, with the same camouflage pattern as the titan itself, scaled to her size.

Zeruel leveled his flamer mechadendrite at the tube. "Heresy begets retribution." He stated simply.

"What do you think you're doing!" Shouted the tech-priest that had followed Zeruel. "You can't just do that!"

"Stand down Hartios, he's bluffing. Nobody would be so foolish."

Zeruel lit the pilot light on his flamer without speaking. The Mechanicus priest was at a loss for words, and even if he had been armed, there was nothing he could hope to accomplish against an Astartes. Without warning, Zeruel shot a short stream of promethium towards the tube, ignited by the pilot light. Short enough to be completely harmless, but it still raised the temperature of the liquid by a few degrees.

"How dare you!"

"I need not listen to the words of a heretic. Show me that you are not, or perish." The princeps remained silent, contemplating, deciding between the perceived dishonor of taking orders from the techmarine, or from being killed by him. "You have three seconds to decide, and mind you, that's a lot compared to the time I usually give heretics to repent."

"One..."

"Two..."

"... Fine. But I don't guarantee that the next time we meet I won't accidentally hit you instead of my intended target."

Zeruel turned to the semi-mechanical man behind him. "Tell the rest we're ready to move out as soon as they made sure Ruina is too." Incapable of processing what just happened, he did as he was told and ran out of the Warlord titan.

"Doesn't look half bad." Magos Vantarn said to himself. Using flexible data-feeds he connected the unaligned sockets of the guns to the weapon mounts, and cut the armor away where the large ammo drums connected to the autocannons by a linked belt feed, using the cut-out pieces and spare armor plates to cover the drums as best he could. There was no time to paint Sachiel in her previous colors, so to prevent corrosion he quickly sprayed on a thick layer of the anti-corrosive primer that gave most Mechanicus machines their distinctive brownish red color.

"Feels nearly the same as the ones I'm used to. Impressive." She commented.

"I'm not a magos for show, you know." Vantarn deadpanned. He put down his tools and scuttled over to the large doors of his workshop. One of his subordinates had called for him, but he had told the tech-priest he was busy and did not want to be disturbed. The robed man was still waiting at the door when the Magos opened it. "So, what was it?"

"Ruina Rabidus is ready to go." He chose not to mention how Zeruel had gotten her to that point because she had already agreed and the last thing they could use now was fighting amongst themselves, especially a fight they could not win. Finally, he did not dare to badmouth Sachiel's battle-brother in front of her.

Steam escaped from vents in the walls of the large cylindrical chamber that housed the Warlord. The Mechanicus staff and the taskforce including the scouts had gathered and moved onboard Ruina Rabidus, all except Sachiel, who was told to go all the way to the bottom of the facility and position herself behind one of the massive ceramite feet.

Drawbridges were pulled back as an alarm rang throughout the entire building. A thin strip of light was cast diagonally on the curved rockcrete walls, increasing in width as the ceiling split in two and the two halves continued to move apart. A few seconds after the process started, the alarm rang again and more steam exited the vents with a loud hiss and white clouds and the platform Sachiel had been standing on next to Ruina ever so slowly started to rise and equally slowly gaining in speed as the gigantic elevator struggled with the titan's incredible weight.

Sunlight hit the head of the war machine and the crew inside was temporarily blinded save the space marines who were specifically made resistant to this as a counter-measure against flashes from explosions and flash-bangs. Sachiel was struck with awe at the sheer size and power of the machinery that would be needed to pull this off and looked around her to see the facility slowly drop down around her for the full 12 minutes it took.

A bone-white thunderhawk drop ship was waiting on the surface, and it was at this point that Zeruel instructed Sachiel to assist in its task. "Sachiel, there's obviously no way you can keep up with us, so they agreed to move you to our final position after you help them find their fallen brothers."

She led the apothecaries from the thunderhawk to the location from which they assaulted the complex, and where the first marine fell. Arriving at the scene, she saw Mebahiah with the second casualty. "Where did you go, Brother?" She asked him, unable to remember when she last saw him.

"Securing the casualties, making sure the progenoid glands would not be damaged, and guarding them. Orders from the sergeant, remember? Oh, of course, your systems were knocked out at that time."

"Glad to see you're fine. I've brought you Chapter's medical unit with me. We are to pick up the casualties and drop me off outside the capital, you may have noticed Ruina leave already."

"That's its name? Impressive machine, don't see them often. How is the sergeant, by the way?"

"Her name, apparently. Turns out they are referred to by their pilot's gender. Brother sergeant Jukar is fine, he says, despite his leg."

Mebehiah laughed. "Well that's just like him, wouldn't pass the opportunity to play with any of the larger weapons, he might just ask the Grand Master to keep it, like it's a stray dog. In any case let's get these guys loaded up and drop you off at your destination."

Thunderhawks are not particularly slow craft, in fact they are quite fast, which is a testament to the sheer size of the titan's steps given the fact she and her crew were waiting for Sachiel's arrival two clicks from the hive's walls, albeit not for very long. Not two seconds after Sachiel stepped from the transport's assault ramp she was voxed by sergeant Jukar. "Glad you could join us, brother. We have no time to lose, our main force is pinned down in an Administratum building, which, frankly, doesn't look much like one anymore. Even from here, they are well within range of our weapons, but an enemy counter-attack would leave us vulnerable without support on the ground. This is where you come in, and it makes your task quite simple. Don't let any of those filthy grey-skins get anywhere near us."

"There won't be any support, will there?"

Misunderstanding Sachiel's words, the sergeant answered. "Nope, so feel free to engage without target identification. Friendlies from the hive won't get too close either." She decided it would be wiser to leave the matter for what it was and hope for the best.

Closing the vox-link, silence returned to Sachiel, but not for long. A Warlord titan is equipped with weapons that are second in size only to those of Imperator-class titans and space ships, and with several hard-points, a Warlord can be equipped for a variety of situations. On top of each of the bulky ceramite bunkers that made up Ruina Rabidus' shoulders sat what Sachiel's digital librarium called Apocalypse missile launchers, the missiles each capable of laying waste to the largest of tanks and even smaller titans as well as being fired in a devastating barrage. Mounted on her left arm hung a Gatling blaster. Firing the same size shells as a tank, it has the firepower of an entire battalion.

These weren't the weapons that produces the almost inaudibly low and increasingly loud hum that made Sachiel feel just as rapidly increasingly nervous, nor were their looks as menacing and their power as destructive as the right-arm weapon. Five huge barrels were arranged in five sixth of a circle and supported by a well-armored girder from which hung a banner stretching from one end to the other depicting Ruina's heraldry, symbols representing the many battles the ancient war machine has fought. The hellstorm cannon was a weapon worthy even of Imperator class titans, and commonly fitted to those as well.

As the cannon's hum rose in volume and pitch, shimmering air also rose from the muzzles of the large gun. If Sachiel still had her old body, it would have sent a shiver down her spine when the gun stopped humming abruptly. The half-second of pure silence seemed to last an eternity, because she knew what was coming. During that time, she wondered why, because there was no enemy in sight.

A quintuple lance of ionized air marked the path of each of the five directed energy blasts, leading into a rockcrete structure that dwarfed even the titan, and out the other side. The ionized air alone produced such an amount of heat that the hole in the building grew much wider than the beams that passed through it with molten rockcrete flowing from it like blood from an open wound.

As the traces of the blast finally dimmed down, it became clear to Sachiel what the target was. Behind the building stood another one, similar and size and shape. Hit in its foundations, it collapsed and Tau units equipped with jet-packs could be seen jumping from the windows its dust cloud passed through the hole of a hab-spire in front, the grey dust of wind being enough to snap it in half at its gaping wound. It crushed the city wall where its top half fell down.

Ruina did not pause to admire the results, and launched a missile from each of the pods on her shoulders. They flew straight ahead over the rubble where once two large hab-spires had stood, and then dived down into the occupied streets below. Glass shattered everywhere in a half-kilometer radius and rained down on troops both hostile and friendly alike, harmlessly bouncing off any of them that wore a decent suit of armor with a helmet and creating potential new scars on those who did not. From Sachiel's position it looked like glittering dust, a moment of wonder in an age of war.

She remained on the look-out for enemies closing in, for "even a moment of laxity can spawn a lifetime of heresy", Zeruel had taught her. Not long after the shards had all hit the ground and shattered into many smaller pieces, the xenos started coming over the wall where it was crushed with floating tanks and jet-assisted jumping suits of armor. Colored runes and boxes adorned each of the targets, indicating type, size and threat-level.

A deafening roar accompanied shell casings the size of a Space Marine's armored leg dropping around Sachiel, but most of the xeno suits and tanks were too fast to be caught in the barrage; only the two hammerheads in the back of the squadron cursed their luck as shells rained down upon them and ripped the tanks to shreds.

Her massive ammo-drums rattled as their internals rotated rapidly in attempt to keep up with the demand of 40mm shells Sachiel poured out the front ends of her guns and soon she would be standing in a pile of her own casings.

DAKKADAKKA DAKKADAKKA

A battlesuit crashed into the ground and exploded, trailed by thick black smoke after the girl scored two hits on it.

DAKKADAKKA DAKKADAKKA DAKKADAKKA DAKKADAKKA

A hammerhead and another suit were hit. The hover tank was immobilized when its systems momentarily failed and it crashed into the ground, but otherwise remained unharmed. The XV-81 Crisis battlesuit came out worse; an explosion in mid-air marked its end.

In the titan's head, Zeruel kept track of Sachiel on the HUD of his helmet. While not achieving the same hit-ratio of a trained marine would after being entombed in a Dreadnought, she nonetheless did not disappoint and seemed to fight instinctively.

"Reload Sachiel after the next burst." Zeruel voxed to sergeant Phatiel. He and his scouts traveled along in one of the tight hallways within Ruina's bulky hull where they kept the extra drums of 40mm ammunition to resupply Sachiel after she would inevitably run dry.

The Gatling blaster roared again and within the single second it fired, 50 more empty casings fell all around Sachiel. The tanks she pinned down with her continuous fire, destroying their hover mechanisms or otherwise slowing them down, were caught in another barrage of shells that meant their quick, painless, and brutally devastating end where the ground was turned into a field of craters.

Due to the short range of their weapons, the battlesuits were not designated as high priority targets before, but in the meanwhile they had closed most of the gap so that they could bring their devastating melta-like weapons to bear.

Three XV-9 Hazard suits approached her fast, and a rapid burst of shells managed to take out two of them, but at that point Sachiel's luck, and ammunition, ran out. There was nothing she could do as the third suit fired its fusion weapons and melted right through two of her cannon barrels. The suit passed by in a typical Tau hit-and-run style attack, preparing to turn around for another shot.

"Now! Move!"

Behind Sachiel stood four scouts, each carrying one of the large ammo drums. As soon as she saw them, she ejected the empty ones and two of the scouts dropped theirs to assist the others in loading the two still functioning guns. Once loaded, she too turned around in the hope to engage the last battlesuit, but it was already close enough to fire and the Fusion guns started to glow with white hot energy just before one of them exploded. The xeno still fired, but their shots just missed due to the explosion throwing the other guns off target. The singing heat melted the surface of Sachiel's leg-armor as the superheated beam struck one of the scouts instead.

Without speaking, the remaining three scouts picked up the remains of their brother, and carried it back up the rope ladder from which they descended, at the top of which sat Phatiel with his sniper rifle still smoking. As Sachiel saw this, she realized she owed it to the scouts, and their Chapter in general, to win this, so his death would not be in vain.

Even with just one arm left, the girl kept firing and hit the offending Hazard suit as it turned around to finish what he started. It spun around its vertical axis for little over a full rotation as one of its jets caught fire and exploded. At the same time, explosions all around her indicated the impacts of more of Ruina Rabidus' missiles barely far enough to be safe, but most of the suits danced around them with their high agility.

When Sachiel's guns fell silent again and the empty drums hit the ground, she learned that quantity is a quality of its own. Multiple smart missiles impacted on her front armor and she was blown back against Ruina's large foot.

The foot lifted, and landed again a few meters before Sachiel, protecting her from more a second volley. No doubt it was Zeruel who convinced Ruina that she had to defend the girl, or she probably would not even have noticed, or cared for that matter.

While her systems restored quickly, there was still little she could do against the incoming xeno force. The few remaining suits started to circle around the house-sized leg and a targeting lock caused Sachiel's alarms to go off. One suit shot through her leg, and another's guns were charging as well. She fell onto her side. Two more hits struck her other weapon arm, and for a moment she was reminded of the very beginning of her travels with Zeruel, the end of the Ork invasion of her homeworld. She saw Zeruel lift her from the machine that robbed her from her limbs, and by extension, her humanity. She wished he could save her again. At least this body felt no pain.

Over the wall of the hive city, more tanks appeared, and bright purplish blue light extended from their cannons. They pierced the battlesuits that were circling around Sachiel in two salvos. The green boxes indicated they were friendly. "Land raider" her HUD said, three of them total.

Zeruel climbed down the rope ladder the scouts had used. "What a mess." He commented as he stared at Sachiel. The land raider tanks pulled over just besides him, and from each stepped a squad of Terminators, their suits of armor scarred and scorched almost entirely. They left their storm shields and thunder hammers inside the tanks as they gathered around Sachiel and knelt. Following them, Grand Master Achaiah also put down his weapons and walked over besides his subordinates.

"I am... No, we are sorry we could not be here sooner. I realize this is a great blow to your Chapter's fighting power, even if just temporary."

"No, sir." She replied. "You were just on time. I was afraid the Emperor was calling me to His side."

"Regardless, you held up your end of the bargain, and I'll hold up mine. I've discussed the matter with brother Mebehiah already, and he agreed. In addition, please use our facilities to make your repairs." He directed that last part at Zeruel who bowed and thanked Achaiah.

With the help and equipment of the Angels of Absolution's techmarines, Sachiel was made almost like new again. Sachiel's armor was inscribed with the date and location of the battle, along with the personal words of gratitude of the Grand Master.

Their farewell was short, as the Angels of Absolution were called upon by their Founding Chapter, the Dark Angels themselves, for mysterious reasons.

"Let us battle together again, when your Chapter is back to full strength." Achaiah told Zeruel.

"Anytime, Grand Master."

"Brother would be fine, are you not Grand Master now too?"

"I guess you are right... brother. Farewell."

"Farewell, brother Zeruel, brother Sachiel."

Sachiel bowed as well as any Dreadnought could. "Farewell, Grand Master." He had told her the same he told Zeruel, but she insisted to keep referring to him like she did, because she felt responsible for the death of one of his scouts.

Mebehiah bowed before his lord. "It was an Honor being an Angel of Absolution."

"And no doubt it will be an honor to resurrect one of our brother Chapters. Bear that honor with pride."

"Yes my lord. Farewell."

Sachiel, Zeruel and Mebehiah boarded their shuttle, and drifted off into the void, headed back to the _Heritage of Zestra III_.


	8. Chapter 8

This chapter is a little shorter again, despite the ages it took for me to get around to writing the most of it. I've had a bit of trouble figuring out where I wanted the story to go, although I have a pretty good idea of it now. Also school.

The next one will probably be longer again, but I had to cut this one off here, because what I continued to write was clearly a new chapter, even though it's just a few paragraphs so far.

Thanks for waiting.

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><p><strong>Chapter 8<strong>

"You've done well, Sachiel." Zeruel had told her as they once again set foot on the ravished decks of their ship of questionable void-worthiness. "You've exceeded my expectations. You have a real talent for this." Sachiel understood he was complimenting her, but she failed to see it as such. It frightened her, mostly of herself, what she has become. She had such an easy time killing so many of the enemy right up to the point where they finally cornered her and she was saved by part of the main Angels of Absolution battleforce. Too easy. She was scared of the power she held. Afraid she could not control it, and even if she could at some point, it was still only the power to destroy.

Sachiel had been a creative person when she still had her limbs, she occasionally played the piano, drew elaborate doodles on every suitable, and sometimes less suitable, surface she could find and she had a particular fondness of Gothic architecture, which is why she studied to become an architect as well. Instead of constructing various buildings, she could now only deconstruct them... violently.

Even though the galaxy had been at war for at least ten thousand years, she was still the type to hope it would someday end, yet now she felt like she was pouring promethium on the proverbial fire. She wanted to get married and create life, yet now she ended it. Just like the first time she battled the Emperor's enemies, she felt dirty with blood. Purple blood, but blood nonetheless. She asked Zeruel to perform the same rites of cleansing as well, even though she now knew it wouldn't wash away that feeling.

Of course she knew her previous self is all in the past now, and that she'll have to get used to her new life, or what passed for it, but she could not just let go of it either. A drop of blessed machine oil rolled down her sarcophagus from the vision slit, resembling a dark greasy tear. She noticed and inwardly chuckled at the irony.

Zeruel wiped it up and cursed his carelessness as the seemingly moving shadows around them were suddenly reattached to the objects that cast them in the light that entered the maintenance chamber from the broken stained glass windows with a telltale howl. He checked his helmet's built in chronometer, and noticed it was a bit early to drop out of warp. Perhaps the immaterial streams changed in their favor. He decided not to give it much thought and continued his rites with care.

"My lord! There's a... problem." Zeruel put down the spray gun he just picked up with the intent to repaint Sachiel's hull as Mebahiah came into the large chamber with the loud clang of skull-white ceramite boots on the black marble floor, made of a specific reinforced type of the stone that would withstand the armored footsteps for centuries. Instead of sighing, still not used to being the master of an entire chapter and subsequently being called "lord" or "master", he turned and looked at the recently promoted Apothecary, his armor painted white like most chapters did, and his left pauldron repainted in deep purple with a phosphorescent green trim.

"What's wrong, brother?"

"The navigator... Maxim..." Mebahiah paused for a second. "He died, my lord. I had to terminate the warp jump or it could well have been worse. I believe he was in the process of being possessed and it must be the sudden disconnect from the Warp that killed him by means of mental shock, although that's just guess."

"If he's dead then at least we aren't in direct danger." Zeruel cursed his luck under his breath, partially because they were back to having to travel Emperor only knows how many years of small jumps, partially because he was reminded of the threat of Daemons. Fear is a daemon's main weapon, and Zeruel realized that since Sachiel was never psycho-indoctrinated with a Space Marine's near-fearlessness, she could get killed much too easily and give away her secret in the process, threatening the very existence of his near-exterminated Chapter.

"How far did we get before he died?" Zeruel asked hopefully. "Did we at least get close to our destination?"

Mebahiah paused for a second and then lowered his head. "My apologies, lord, we're only half-way to the Todia system." Todia III was Zeruel's homeworld, although after little over a century of service to the Emperor, he could hardly remember more than its name. He cursed again and wondered what the Emperor had in store for him next while worrying about the girl he saved.

Zeruel knew there was no chance he would be able to get a new navigator assigned to them; the things they could do for the Imperium in their current state were negligible at best. He also knew they had no chance in the Warp of getting there the way they had done so up until now, the method of short jumps being too time consuming, time during which they could be wiped out more than a dozen times over.

"Let me finish painting Sachiel's armor, I need to think this over. "

"Yes lord." Mebahiah bowed and made to leave but Zeruel stopped him.  
>"Oh, and one more thing."<p>

"My lord?"  
>"Yes, about that." Mebahiah looked questioningly under his helmet. "Stop calling me lord."<p>

"But..."

"I'm not one to order people around, so this is my first and final one."

"As you wish, lo... brother." Zeruel nodded and smiled invisibly under his own headgear.  
>Zeruel picked up his spray gun again and filled it with the deep purple liquid that would camouflage Sachiel's bulk during night-time. Time passed slowly, the paint dried. Sachiel and Zeruel said nothing to each other for the longest time. The techmarine covered the purple dreadnought with tape where he didn't want the phosphorescent paint to go, pressing it down onto the thick ceramite surprisingly gently.<p>

Her vox made her voice sound as hollow and mechanical as ever, but it could not conceal the slight sadness with which Sachiel spoke. "What will you do now?"

"I have no idea." Zeruel leaned against Sachiel and looked down, at the roll of tape in his other hand. "What do you think I should do? The admins won't give us a new navigator, we're just a waste of resources given there's just the three of us on a broken ship. I have a grand total of two progenoid glands to implant into new recruits that we don't even have, and we're light years from home."

"What if we recruit from a different world? One close by."

"I really would've liked to avoid that, but it seems like our only option at this point. At least that way we'll have more gene-seed to work with by the time we do get home."

"Then, why don't we leave this ship and hitch a few rides?"

"Do you realize how pathetic we would look?" Zeruel shook his head. "Ironic how their stubbornness finally rubbed off on me after they died." He referred to his old battle-brothers.

"Is that really more important than the survival of your Chapter? If you really want to recruit from your own homeworld, why are you losing sight of yourself?"

"My Chapter, eh?" Zeruel sighed deeply.

"You survived because you didn't fit in, because you were different. Don't you think the bizarre events at Zestra III are a sign? I think the Emperor is trying to tell you something."

"I hadn't thought of it like that. You'd make a great chaplain. Still, I wouldn't want to leave the _Heritage_, it's... "

"You named it after me, right?"

"So I did."

"I won't leave you. The ship is just a ship. Once we recruit more members, we can requisition a new ship, can't we? In the meanwhile this one can be repaired and returned to actively serve the Imperium."

"You've got a point. Again. If you don't want me to actually promote you to chaplain, I recommend you stop doing that." Zeruel grinned but it quickly turned into another sigh. "I don't know why I'm getting all emotionally attached to things like this, it's not like me." He finished taping up the last spots on Sachiel's armor and grabbed his paint gun.

"You don't have to be a robot, Zeruel. If there's one thing I learned from fighting with the Angels of Absolution, it's that Space Marines are people too. You may have been rebuilt physically and reshaped mentally, but your soul is still human. Isn't that why you will be called to the Emperor's side when you die?"

"That's it. Where is my black paint? You're getting a makeover."

"What? Why?"  
>"Traditionally, Chaplains wear black armor."<br>"Y-you were serious?"

"I am now."

"B-but..."

"Thanks, Sachiel."

When Mebahiah turned around he was surprised. Before him stood a jet black dreadnought, a sickly green glow illuminated the black armor plates, radiating from its similarly colored trims. Only the right shoulder armor was still purple and a winged skull now adorned the sarcophagus.

"Brother Zeruel?"

"I know what you're thinking, and the answer is 'yes'. The conversation Sachiel and I had proved his suitability for the job."

Sachiel stepped forwards, towards the body of Maxim Tergalis, their deceased navigator. Zeruel had replaced her cannons with the storm bolter equipped power claws. It was her duty now, as chaplain, to see to the dead as well as the living. Her giant right claw closed around the inanimate and half-cooled body, lifting it gently from the chair Maxim sat in when the Warp had tried to overtake him and Mebahiah cut off power to the warp drives. Mebahiah had left him as he was.

"Beloved Emperor, show this lost soul Your guiding light, give him a place at Your side, he has served You faithfully until the end." Sachiel walked down the long halls of the _Heritage of Zestra III_ chanting a prayer to ask for guidance and acceptance of the souls of the dead. It was a prayer she had heard only once, never to leave her memories. It was the prayer that led her grandfather's soul to His side roughly three years before. She was fairly close to him, he lived close by in the same hive and often visited to play with his only grandchild and tell her stories of legends, angels of death that fall from the sky to smite the evil. She often wished she could go back to the time when she thought the stories were just fantasy, just fiction.

"Beloved Emperor, grant this soul rest and peace, for he has played his part in life."

Sachiel put the body down in an airlock and Zeruel closed the door. Mebahiah made the sign of the Aquila as Zeruel opened the void-side door and Maxim's remains were sucked out of the small room. Even after cooling down, the vacuum of space made his blood boil, escaping through cuts made for this purpose as to preserve the deceased's physical shape and, by extension, his dignity. Zeruel also made the sign of the Aquila as the body drifted further and further away.

"Emperor rest his soul." Mebahiah said.

"Emperor rest his soul indeed." Zeruel agreed. "Now we set course to the nearest Imperial world with an orbital spaceport.

"We need to dock the _Heritage_? "

"Yes. We're going to leave it there, we have no further use for it. The Adeptus Mechanicus should be able to patch it up and return it to service."

"I see."

"Unless you plan to cover the costs, this flying scrapyard of yours won't be worth our while. It's more expensive to restore it, and by extension have it occupy one of our docks for an extended period of time, than it is to let you keep it, even if the Imperium won't benefit from it that way." An Administratum worker at the spaceport ruined the plans the trio had made two jumps and equally many days before their arrival in the Histurax system.

Zeruel had disembarked alone to take care of everything, and had found himself in a long line waiting for someone to speak to. Once it was his turn, his proposal was quickly turned down. While the plan had appeared sound, in truth, none of the Angels of Doom had any knowledge of economics. He had thought the lady was rude, but could not disagree with her, they really were flying a piece of space-junk.

"Then... can I requisition supplies instead?"

After being sent to three different Adminitratum offices, he finally gathered all the supplied he needed and he returned to the _Heritage of Zestra III_. Once there, he was greeted by a surprised Sachiel and Mebahiah as he put down a large wooden crate he carried inside. "Wasn't the plan to leave our ship?" Sachiel asked.

"Well, yeah, that was indeed the plan. Was. Thing is, apparently it's more costly to restore this ship than it's worth, so they wouldn't take it... unless we pay for it of course. Looks like we need to recruit elsewhere. Mebahiah, what world do you hail from?"

"I eh... I was hesitant to tell you because I didn't think you'd believe me, but I was recruited from Todia III as well."

Zeruel sat down on his crate and thought things over while Mebehiah and Sachiel watched silently. "Do you really think it was a sign that we survived?"

"Whatever doubts I had, disappeared when brother Mebahiah revealed his origins. But I too do not understand what plan the Emperor has for us. All I know is that we need to do everything to reach the Todia system, but as to how we're going to get there, and what happens in the meantime... We're just going to have to trust Him, and let Him guide us."

"'Faith is purest when it is unquestioning.' Is that what you're saying?" Zeruel asked rhetorically and stood up. "I guess you're right. In that case it seems I made the right decision at the offices. Could you give me a hand with these crates? There's a few more outside."

"No problem."

"What's in those crates, brother?"

"Some necessities for the new recruits you're going to donate my gene-seed to."

"It seems you have a back-up plan."

"Sort of. It seems it's the Emperor's main plan though. Looks like He prefers... cultural diversity. There's a solid logic in that though. Two always know more than one."

With that said the crates were quickly carried onboard and into some chambers repurposed for storage. The chambers were previously used as sleeping quarters for the crew, but as that crew is long lost the stars, nobody expected it to take on that job again anytime soon. The beds were barely large enough to rest a crate on each of them, and the sheets were used to cover the crates and shield them from dust buildup.

Sachiel was staring at one of the beds, thinking of a time when she was capable of sleep and of feeling the soft sheets on her body, the warmth of a thick blanket during the winter season. She realized she had to snap out of it. Doing so, she turned to Zeruel. "Since we need to recruit ASAP, let's find a suitable world." In reality she had no clue how Space Marines were recruited, and from what kind of world, but she thought it sounded appropriate enough.

"I already have a world in mind. The world is known for its resilient warriors and we could certainly use some of those." He answers.

"I sense a 'but' coming." Mebahiah notes.

"Exactly." Zeruel continues. "It is already an Astartes recruiting world. The Sons of Orar recruit there every century. Apparently they are about to do so again next Terran standard month."

"I might have heard about the Sons of Orar. They are Ultramarines successors, are they not?" Mebahiah asks to Sachiel's relief. At least it didn't seem like something she was expected to know a lot about.

"Indeed, brother, and that's also the main problem. As you know, the Ultras adhere very strictly to the codex their Primarch wrote, and the same goes for their descendant chapters. Since we Unforgiven tend to disregard half of it in favor of our own tactics, I fear it to be hard to convince them to allow us to recruit from their world."

"That makes sense, in a way, but in the end, we all battle the enemies of the Emperor, do we not?" Sachiel asks rhetorically.

"Words of truth. I hope they agree, but we better take diplomatic action ASAP regardless."

* * *

><p>You might notice from the way I wrote this that I had trouble figuring out what should happen next, but I think the way they found a new way to reach their goal is fairly natural that way, because Zeruel and poor Chaplain Sachiel had as little a clue as I did at that point. I just hope she'll be able to handle her new job. :S<p> 


	9. Chapter 9

Thanks for the reviews for Chapter 8, and for the advice given. Sadly, you won't see any of that back in this chapter, but don't worry, I'm already working on the next.

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><p><strong>Chapter 9<strong>

An armored fist, red like blood, slammed down on a large white marble table inlaid with a pattern of the same color as the ceramite gauntlet that struck it. Anyone seated at it could feel the shock of the impact through the marble, but it took no visible damage.  
>"Master! You can't be serious!" Exclaimed one of the veterans at the table, rising from his seat as he pounded the table, almost crushing his skull white helmet just besides which his fist hit the marble. His similarly colored pauldrons contrasted the otherwise red armor. Purity seals on his ceramite collar came to rest once more, the parchment falling back over the golden two-headed eagle that proudly adorned his armored chest.<br>"Calm down Marnuth, take your seat. They can only recruit those they save of those we cannot. It makes no difference for us now, and we can only benefit in the long run." Replied the Master of the Chapter, Jenrok as he introduced himself when the meeting started.  
>"Master, with all due respect, why would we support them in straying from the path laid down by Roboute Guilliman himself?" Marnuth argued after regaining his calm, trying a more reason-oriented approach.<br>"We don't. Without a Chapter they have nothing in the way of tactics whatsoever. In the end, we all battle the enemies of the Emperor, so rather than casting them aside, we should take on the task of teaching them our way, hoping they learn from it."  
>"But Master Jenrok..." Another veteran marine called out. "What if they choose to ignore the wisdom of the Holy Codex?"<br>"Then we will have lost a gamble, brother Fexor, but still nothing we otherwise could have gained. In the worst case you indicate, we play even. But even the Primarch himself stated that any tactic, no matter how proven, can be improved. Thus, so can theirs, if they are willing to see." Jenrok answered patiently. "And there's also the fact that the Codex Astartes, after it was written by Guilliman, had new material added to it from other sources. Such a thing is uncommon, but not unheard of and may happen again if new tactics prove effective."  
>"I agree." The Chapter Champion, Verran said, standing up. He was one of two marines not in almost entirely red armor. His was also trimmed with plenty of gold. "One day they could be our allies. It never hurts to have a good standing with other chapters."<br>A different looking marine also rose to his feet. His armor was pitch black, save the pauldron, and a Crozium Arcanum lay before him on the table. "That, and sabotaging our allies is the same as helping our enemies. We have a word for that I'm sure I don't need to remind you of." Said Chaplain Quintus.  
>Master Jenrok did as the two marines who spoke before him did and once standing he closed the meeting and gestured everyone to stand if they had not done so already. "That concludes the meeting. Let us bring our guests the word."<p>

The three Angels of Doom waited in the large reception hall of the Sons of Orar battlebarge _Unending Fury_. The hall was carved from a monolithic black rock apparently found only on their homeworld Armato in Ultima Segmentum. The Orar marines on escort detail had not told why, but the halls on this ship, originally part of some building, were important enough to be completely integrated into the custom made ship's structure.  
>Zeruel marvelled at the estimated cost of such an operation as he slid his purple armored hand along the smoothly polished rock just when the large plasteel reinforced, thick and dark wooden doors opened slowly with a clang of a heavy lock and the creaking sound of its hinges. Chapter Master Jenrok entered the reception hall and multi-colored light fell on his face from the stained glass windows that reached from floor to ceiling, which was so high that the Sons of Orar often made jokes about changing the light bulbs and how many techmarines were necessary for that job. The consensus was two. One to drive the Land Raider tank for the other to stand on top of.<br>Zeruel greeted the man with a small bow. "I trust you have made the right decision, whichever that may be."  
>Jenrok answerd with an aged voice. "So we did. I have but one condition." He waited for Zeruel to nod in agreement. "You and your companions shall join these fine men behind me, as my Honor Guard."<br>"We have no problem with that, Master Jenrok. In fact, I'm honored you trust us with your back, and I am sure the same goes for my fellow Angels."  
>"Then it's settled. Everyone is expected to be in their designated droppods by the time all other preparations are finished at sixteen-hundred hours. You should familiarize with the rest of the squad in the meantime. If you'll please excuse me, I have to oversee the operation." Jenrok disappeared through a door on the other end of the impressive hall.<br>The black armored marine stepped forwards and offered his hand to Zeruel, and while introducing himself also to Mebahiah, and made a short bow to Sachiel. "I am Quintus, the squad's Chaplain. I'll introduce everyone to you." The other marines were lined up shoulder-to-shoulder, and Quintus walked over to one end of the line.

"This is Verran, the Chapter Champion." Verran saluted, making the sign of the aquila by putting his palms over his chest, fingers outstretched, with his thumbs forming the two heads. "Next is brother Marnuth, the Standard Bearer." He too made the sign of the Aquila. "Then there's the brothers, actual brothers, mind you, Fexor and Hevar." They saluted and added to that, in chorus. "Twins, even." The Chaplain moved on to the last veteran marine. "Finally we have brother Ashver, he's a true master with his relic axe." Ashver simply nodded.

"Since I'm not actually part of the squad, the Codex dictates I am to command a squad of my own, I will take my leave now as well. The Emperor protects." Quintus said before he went out the same door as his chapter's master.

"Well then." Zeruel said. "Let me introduce ourselves as well. My name is Zeruel. Brother Mebahiah is our resident apothecary, and this..." He put his hand on one of Sachiel's autocannons, re-mounted before departing their ship. "...is Chaplain Sachiel, who recently rose to that rank. I must admit his wargear is rather... unconventional, but so is the situation we are in and it has proven quite effective so far."

"We'll see about that." Marnuth mumbled silently

"Give them a chance to prove themselves." Verran replied, the only one who actually heard Marnuth speak.

"I don't plan to stand in their way, but you cannot expect me to trust unproven tactics with my life either."  
>"We don't expect that at all." Sachiel spoke for the first time. "But believe me when I say you can trust in our dedication." That was no lie. Sachiel was completely dedicated to Zeruel's goal, which in turn was one of the few things that mattered in his life too. Mebahiah's dedication was born of honor. Failing to accomplish his mission of resurrecting the Angels of Doom, would dishonor the Angels of Absolution just as well.<br>"If the master didn't have faith in that he never would have agreed to this." Fexor said.  
>"And if the master says so, then that's good enough for us." Hevar finished.<br>"Well, there you have it." Verran concludes. "Let's visit the armory, it's almost time and we still need to equip ourselves... and I'm sure you can carry some more ammo too."

Zeruel grabbed a pair of stamped plasteel drum magazines for his bolter from a well maintained wooden cabinet, filled them up with bolts from a large crate next to that and mag-locked them on his belt next to the two he already carried. When he saw this, Mebahiah decided to replace his sickle-pattern magazines with drums as well. He proceeded to look around the vast weapon chamber to find a stash of frag grenades, while Zeruel went for the krak variety.

The Sons of Orar were still busy stocking up on ammo themselves, taking their personal relic weapons from force-field equipped cabinets with their names on them and adjusting all their gear. While waiting, Zeruel carried a large drum of 40mm ammunition in each hand and with each servo-arm to Sachiel, who was waiting just outside the cramped room, although cramped in this case is a relative term, watching the men prepare.

"You ready for this?" Zeruel asked her inaudibly to anyone but her, by means of a private vox-channel, while inserting drums into her guns.

"As ready as I'll ever be, for what it's worth.

"Don't worry, I'll keep a private vox-channel open for the entire duration of the battle."

"I'm just afraid I won't be able to take all the killing we'll be doing again."

"You'll do just fine. The Emperor watches over you. You have His approval, it's quite obvious."

"I wonder what His plans are for me, but I guess there's only one way to find out." Sachiel sighed.

"Let's head to the command chamber for briefing." Zeruel said to change the subject once the rest of the marines were ready too.

"It looks like we're complete now." Jenrok stated as he moved towards a rather large hololith displaying an image world they are orbiting. "Zilvesta" said the hololith in green glowing High Gothic. He pressed a rune on the device, which lit up several spots on the planet's surface. "An Ork invasion force is estimated to land on these positions. These..." He pressed another rune. "...are the major concentrations of the populace." The Chapter Master indicated a few of the triangular runes that lit up. "As you can see, these two points collide, so this is where we will build our defences. I have already sent the scouts in by Thunderhawk to fortify key positions."  
>Master Jenrok walked around the hololith, tracing the device idly with his left hand. "Ninth Company will deploy immediately after this briefing, setting up heavy weapons around the perimeter. They will wait for the enemy to arrive and hold them off."<br>The image on the hololith zooms in until it shows a map of the local geography. Gernath is a feral world, with a large concentration of inhabitants living in a large complex of caves in that particular area. "Once the hostiles arrive in number, we surround them if at all possible, or disrupt them if it isn't, deploying from drop-pods. All of us, that is, companies III, IV and IIX, will deep-strike simultaneously while each keeping a squad in reserve." Jenrok shot a look at the Angels of Doom. "Our allies might be interested to know that the Codex Astartes names this maneuver 'Steel Rain'. They, now that I mention them, will deploy as part of my Honor Guard. We will reinforce any weak spots in our defence as I see fit. Any questions?" Jenrok looked at his captains to confirm that there were none. They dared not show disrespect towards the Chapter Master's judgement by asking about the unconventional trio at this point. "Good. Everyone prepare to deploy."

The Master of the Sons of Orar and his Honor Guard, including the temporary addition to it, were already prepared for the most part, and instead kept an eye on the strategical map on the hololith. The map was now displayed as a horizontal rasterized plain with thick lines indicating terrain features and different runes for the corresponding unit types. Each rune also had its own numbered code.  
>There were three large cave entrances, each defended by three squads of devastators and their assorted weaponry. Though Jenrok assumed he never even read the Codex, Zeruel spent the last month memorizing every passage of it, thanking the Emperor for the ability of perfect recollection that all Space Marines possess. While the Unforgiven do use the Codex for a great deal of their tactics, they care little about using books to teach, relying on purely active training instead, so he understood Jenrok's assumption and had no plans to correct him.<br>He thus knew the squads would most likely be equipped with medium range firepower, and he found himself agreeing with this tactical insight. Close range weapons allow the enemy to get in too close for comfort, while long range weapons are bad when they inevitably do. The relatively lightly armored Ork vehicles allowed them to do away with the tactically disadvantageous multi-meltas and lascannons, in favor of heavy bolters and a plasma cannon per squad.  
>The tenth squad of Devastators was on stand-by on the hill in the middle of the triangle formed by the three defensive positions. From there, they can quickly reinforce any of the three cave entrances with their razorback transport while blasting Orks with twin-linked plasma guns, or provide ranged fire support with its single lascannon. Green Chevrons indicated the squads, numbered I to IX, while a double chevron with the number X meant the tenth squad was boarded.<br>Sachiel was staring intently at the icons, relayed to her personal HUD by wireless data-vox. The link was configured by Zeruel and made sure that focusing on them had the same effect as it did on locked targets, which is display an overlay of detailed information.  
>"Gamma-IX-Actual to Command, Gamma Point fortified." The vox sounded through the command chamber.<p>

"Confirmed, Gamma-XII-Actual. Keep your eyes peeled." Jenrok answered.

Before the sergeant could acknowledge the order, the next call came in. "Alpha-IX-Actual to Command, squads IX-IV through VI successfully deployed."

"Confirmed Aplha-IX, stay ever vigilant, brother. Command out."

This repeated for the Beta squads, as well as the lone squad at point Delta. At this point it was a waiting game, no further marines would be deployed until the eighth company was actively engaging the Orks, making them an easy target for the guns of the _Unending Fury_.  
>Sachiel hated the waiting. She almost wanted to get into combat, just so she could get it over with. At least in battle she had no time to think about what she was doing, she was too busy living up to expectations, or even just surviving, although 120mm frontal armor plating helps a lot with that as well. Now, images of blood and gore flashed through her mind. Images of things that would never be again, due to her very own actions. She prayed continuously for a sign that it was all worth it, that her actions were justified. She begged the Emperor to pass on her apologies to her late parents.<br>The only answer she got to her prayers was a vox from one of the devastator squads. "Command, Beta-IX-Actual, enemy sighted from the south-west, they're descending inside numerous Roks." Somehow the ship's sensorium failed to pick them up any sooner than that, but as soon as their arrival was announced, the map was updated with correct data, lighting up red icons that moved in Beta Point's general direction.

"Beta-Actual, copy that. We got them in our sights later than expected, there's no way we can shoot them down now without risking friendly fire. You're on your own for now."

"Copy, Command, we'll hold."

"Emperor protects." Jenrok switched on all channels. "All squads, eyes to the sky, Beta reported Roks incoming."

Sachiel looked out the stained glass windows of the cathedral-like vessel, what she saw was frightening. Dozens of smoketrails followed a bombardment of large burning meteorites that seemed aimed at roughly the same area on the planet surface, breaking layers of clouds as they fall. Her HUD overlaid them with the same red icons as appeared on the map, so she had a general idea of the situation when she read the descriptions. This helped little to put her at ease.

On the ground, action was finally starting. The Roks hit the ground, exploding in flashed of light and clouds of dust that Sachiel could see from the windows of the battle barge. Most of them landed about half to two clicks south-west of defensive point Beta, but while Orks are known for many things, accuracy is not one of them. Seven of the Roks landed further out, and were thus of no concern for the time being. A dozen more landed right near Point Alpha. Three landed within the triangle formed by the points Alpha through Gamma, right behind the defensive lines. Two of them were relatively small, but the third looked like it carried half an army of greenskins.  
>Sergeant Gamarus of Delta-IX-X immediately voxed central command. "Delta-IX-X to Command, enemy landed behind defensive lines, what are your orders?"<br>The vox crackled and relayed the answer. "This is Command, keep them busy, IX-X, we're dropping Dreadnought IX-I, brother Zilvestus, Immediately."  
>"Copy Command, IX-X out." Gamarus switched his vox to squad-level. "Rapid deployment point-three clicks east, dig in deep and keep them occupied, Master Jenrok said he'd send brother Zilvestus to do the dirty work. Move!"<br>Before he finished speaking, the Razorback's techmarine driver put his armored boot on the accelerator, quickly covering the 300 meters to where Gamarus indicated. Brakes engaged with full force and hatches flew open in a flash, devastator marines exiting with due haste and taking cover behind rust-colored rocks and resting heavy bolters on top of them.  
>The dust soon cleared and brutish shouts were soon followed by streams of green skinned beasts charging from the Roks in all directions, searching for targets. They did not take long to find those, as the double-banged bark of heavy bolters accompanied one inch caliber shells starting to rain down on them as soon as target locks were acquired. "Humies behind da roks! Waaaagh!"<br>The Orks seemed to care little for their losses, relying instead on their near inexhaustible numbers to reach the enemy lines. They charged up the crater, swinging crude axes and shooting their primitive guns, most of their bullets missing, the rest bouncing off armor harmlessly.  
>Ork Nobz led their squads of Boyz with deafening war cries and the occasional whack on the head. One such Nob was instantly vaporized, along with half his squad, by the impact of a plasma cannon, the others laughed as if it was the funniest thing they had seen in a long while and charged on with increased vigor.<br>Sergeant Gamarus was picking off Nobs specifically with his plasma pistol and skillful marksmanship. At this point the green skinned dead were piling up high as more boys tried to climb up the piles of their fallen comrades. As the mountain of corpses grew, it collapsed over the assaulting xenos, taking away most of the slim chance they had of reaching the devastator marines.  
>It was at that moment that a loud rumble, so loud the cries of the stubborn boyz were lost in it, originated from the Rok crater. A looted predator tank emerged from it soon after, blasting into the marines' general direction with what the invaders call a Boomgun. A second such desecrated tank soon followed.<br>The looted tanks advanced through the squads of boyz, uncaring whether they were dead or still alive, firing shell after man-sized shell. They each drove the other way, betting which side of the battlefield they could make the most kills. It was only a matter of time before they eventually hit something. The razorback transport went up in a thick black cloud of smoke and red hot flames as one of the projectiles met with the front of the vehicle.  
>Sergeant Gamarus and one of his subordinates were thrown back several meters from the blast, but got back on their feet quickly, resuming their defense with much increased fury. By the time the squad leader's pistol overheated and had to be left holstered to cool off, the looted predator on his right side started getting close enough to become a serious threat.<br>"Brothers, cover me!" Gamarus shouted, unanswered in word, but more so in deed as streams of heavy bolt rounds started clearing the way. He broke out into a run, towards the orkified main battle tank. A Nob managed to break through the incoming fire, protected by his thicker armor, and swung at the sergeant. He ducked below the blow, breaking his fall in a roll that he could quickly stand up from and then turned around. His left hand reached out for the offending xeno's head. The power field of his glove-shaped weapon reduced it's head to liquid form.  
>Gamarus wasted no time and continued his assault, jumping on top of the tank. He activated his power fist again as he ripped off one of the crudely welded-on sheets of plasteel armor. Once the hole was large enough, one of the tank's crew members saw a golden opportunity, but the gun-toting arm he stuck outside to defend his ride with broke at the elbow as the sergeant brought his power fist down upon it, not bothering to activate its destructive force field.<br>The greenskin quickly pulled his arm back into the tank, at least, what was left of it. This gave Gamarus the chance to execute his plan, but two more boyz had climbed on top of the tank, preemptively swinging at his with their choppas. From his awkward position he managed to, relatively quickly, pull his pistol and shoot one, but the other jumped on top of him shouting.  
>The creature's choppa impacted his armor almost as hard as its smell impacted the marine's nostrils and a deep gash appeared in the ceramite, caused merely by brute strength. Gamarus struggled to get a hold of the Ork, and managed to finally grab its leg, activating the power field, but even without a leg the greenskin fought on, too close to achieving a feat not many of his rank ever did.<br>The crude axe came for his head, but he managed to pull himself out of harm's way in time while kicking the Ork's other leg out from under him, causing him to fall off the tank which was still driving at reckless speed in an attempt to throw off Gamarus. The sergeant shot him quickly and crawled back to the hole he made in the tank's hull, dropping in a melta bomb. He jumped away from the vehicle quickly, before the tank melted from the inside out, setting off the huge shells in the ammo racks and taking out a few dozen Orks in the resulting blast.

A drop pod was released from orbit. It carried brother Zilvestus, the IX'th company dreadnought. His HUD warned him of the disadvantageous situation on the ground east of Delta Point. He adjusted his course 0.000201 degrees through his MIU, adjusting for wind and the Coriolis effect.  
>From the ground one could only see a ball of fire, leaving a trail of smoke in the atmosphere.<br>Right up until the moment the drop pod crashed into the horde of Orks, the ones surrounding the impact site were still green skinned. Now they were red, and covered in bits of Orky flesh no larger than the 'bullits' in their 'shootas'. The shockwave knocked them off their feet and several meters backwards.  
>Three large doors opened, and the curious few Orks who dared glimpse inside would see only one more thing in their entire lives. The business end of an assault cannon, mounted to an exceptionally angry war machine.<br>One second and hundred times as many rounds of blessed ammunition later, brother Zilvestus cleared a path through the green horde and stepped out of his pod. The looted tank seemed to have noticed and turned around, driving towards it while completely ignoring any Orks that happen to be in front of it. Most of those unfortunate creatures were forcefully convinced to serve as grease for the tank's tracks.  
>The 'boomcannon' fired and the shell went straight for Zilvestus. Centuries of experience gave the dreadnought's inhabitant the apparent ability to predict such things, and he was already turned towards the offending tank. His Gatling weapon spun, spitting out rounds faster than the entire squad under Gamarus' command could with their heavy bolters. None of the rounds hit the tank, but it was not the vehicle that Zilvestus was aiming at. A large explosion in mid-air confirmed the hit on his intended target, the shell that was just fired at him.<p>

On Sachiel's HUD, as well as the hololith in the command chamber, several red icons were extinguished just after a green one lit up. Most of the red ones were still active, and converging on points Alpha and Beta.  
>"Gamma-IX-Actual to Command, no enemies in sight. Shall we move to reinforce points Alpha, Beta and Delta?"<br>"Negative, Gamma. Hold your position. Do you copy?"  
>"Solid copy, Command. Gamma out." Jenrok glanced at the hololith before turning back to the vox-caster. "Companies III IV and IIX, perform deep-strike according to plan."<br>Not a second later, 27 drop pods were released and ignited their thrusters, aiming directly into the massed enemy as to use the pod itself as a kinetic energy weapon much like the dreadnought Zilvestus did.  
>"Command, this is Stervius. III'rd company drop successful."<br>"The Emperor is with you, Captain. Jenrok out."  
>Captain Livius from IV'th company immediately after delivered the same messsage to his master, recieving a samilar reply.<br>"IIX'th is on route, master Jenrok. ETA is T minus 74 seconds."

The plan was to surround the enemy if possible. Zeruel had calculated the course of the pods on his data-slate several times, and every time they would land not outside but inside the green army.

"Master Jenrok... If the plan was to surround the Orks, why are they dropping right in the middle of them?"

Jenrok grinned. "You'll see."

Not much later the green icons representing drop pods turned into the upwards pointing arrow of tactical squads, and the quadruple outwards pointing arrows in X-shape that indicated their assault marine brethren. At the same time, a few of the many red icons disappeared. The green icons started to move outwards as the marines fought themselves a way through the horde.

"I see indeed." Zeruel noted.  
>The friendly units broke free of the enemy masses and started forming circles around them. More greenskins had landed outside the circle that had just formed, but they were probably regrouping elsewhere, and for now they were of no threat to the counterstrike.<br>The newly arrived marines slaughtered one Ork after the other, tirelessly swinging their chainswords and firing their boltguns, occasionally throwing grenades at targets of opportunity or priority. Fresh supplies of ammunition, grenades and other explosives arrived near constantly by means of thunderhawks or sometimes even drop pods. Those same thunderhawks returned to the space ships they came from with the occasional wounded, to be sent back, patched up, with the next shipment of ammunition. Only two marines actually died so far, which is a testament to the effectiveness of their tactics.

After half a day of fighting, the Chapter Master and his Honor Guard were still in the command chamber, directing the battle. Sachiel and Mebahiah were silent the entire time. In Sachiel's case this was because there was nothing she could say that would not betray her secret. Mebahiah learned early on with the Angels of Absolution that his comments were so very rarely appreciated, and that he could better say nothing at all. He just did as he was told. It was for the Emperor's sake, for the Imperium and humanity as a whole, so that was just a small price to pay to be allowed to fight the many enemies of Mankind.  
>All Sachiel did was watch the battle. Most of the red icons were gone now, but there were dark areas on the strategical map, literally shrouded in mystery. She was worried the fight was not yet over. She had no idea why, it was just a bad feeling. Maybe things just seemed to go too smoothly.<p>

* * *

><p>So yeah, this chapter is a bit different, being about the battle itself instead of the characters. Don't know why I did that, just felt like it, I guess. Let's consider this an experiment. I have to admit it was kinda nice to write about someone completely different. The next chapter should see our beloved characters back in action, and maybe a bit more of it than Sachiel tends to enjoy. ;)<p> 


	10. Chapter 10

Here's second part of this 'episode'. Enjoy.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 10<strong>

For Sachiel, the wait seemed to last days, if not weeks, but she knew it was only an hour after the last few greenskins at the caves were eliminated. She was waiting, because she felt there was something wrong. How could this have been so easy? Her homeworld was lost, along with an entire chapter of Astartes while the Sons of Orar was down only two marines.

Of course there were the few Orks that landed off course, but Jenrok himself said they would be a low threat. Were there just that many more Orks on Zestra III? Are the Sons of Orar that much better fighters? No. The difference was too huge.

Sachiel hesitated for a dozen more minutes, before finally speaking, and being able to do so without stuttering. "Master Jenrok..."

"Chaplain?" He turned around, as did Zeruel when he heard her speak. He was quite surprised.

"I believe something isn't right. This victory was too easy."

"All we have to do is wipe out the few who landed out in the wilderness. What kind of trouble do you yet expect?" Jenrok asked, not at all sounding serious.

"I don't know what exactly, but what I do know is that our homeworld was lost to a similar invasion, and nearly our entire Chapter with it. The difference is too big."

"He's right." Noted Zeruel. "I've been thinking this battle was strange, but I couldn't put my finger on it. I think I know what it is now."

Before Zeruel could tell what it was, Jenrok went for the vox-caster. "All companies, this is Chapter Master Jenrok. How many of you defeated a Warboss today?"

Minutes passed before each of the company captains answered. All of them mentioned the same amount. None. Usually each of the Ork tribes are led by a Warboss, and several tribes join in a Waaaaagh! which in turn is led by 'da biggest an' da strongest' of those Warbosses.

The answers confirmed Zeruel's suspicions. He never saw a Warboss icon on the hololith. Neither did Jenrok, of course, because there never was one. It was weird, because Warbosses are usually found in the middle of the fight. The only reason they would be elsewhere is if they expect a bigger battle to be fought elsewhere.

Jenrok thought for a second, holding the vox-receiver. "All companies. New orders." He paused for another second. "Hold your current positions. Scouts, go scout out the enemy. Remain unseen and report back anything you see directly to me." He put the receiver away. "What are they trying to do...?"

"Orks aren't this clever, and even if they were, what greenskin could actually control itself enough not to get into a fight the first chance they get?" Champion Verran said with a puzzled look on his face. "I fear they aren't working alone."

"Do you have an idea who is... using them?"

"Negative, Master. There are a few possibilities but at this point it's impossible to say which. I doubt I need to tell you which."

"Indeed. Then let us prepare for the worst, and pray for the best."

After a few hours, the command chamber's vox unit finally made itself heard. The scouts had just found a concentration of Orks right next to the entrance of a different tunnel system.

"Command, this is Recon-X-Actual. We found a concentration of greenskins who set up a camp here, well... You could call it a complete base, really. Watch towers, motor pool, and I think I see what passes for a primitive field hospital." Someone in the background could be heard joking. "(I sure don't wanna be a wounded Ork if that's a hospital.)"

"How large is that base, sergant Hokarus?"

"It's large. Really large. I'd say it houses as many of the beasts as the horde that came for the caves."

"Anything else out of the ordinary?"

"Yes, Master, one thing. This base of theirs is located to a tunnel that isn't on any of our maps. It looks natural however, and it doesn't seem like they could have dug it in this short time."

"I see. Stay on the lookout. Command, out."

It was strange how many Orks the enemy camp supposedly held. The vast majority of them landed near Alpha and Beta Point, and they all died at the Sons of Orar's guns.

"An Ork horde capable of making strategical decisions... This is unheard of." Jenrok walked around the hololith, thinking. Eldar often enough abused the presence of Orks, but only ever as a diversion, or cannon fodder. The same thing tended to apply to the Emperor-forsaken followers of the Ruinous Powers. The Codex Astartes had nothing to say about the matter, a rare occurrence indeed.

"We still need to take care of this problem, regardless." Zeruel said as he walked away from the window and towards the hololith to look Chapter Master Jenrok in the eyes. "Perhaps we should fight these Orks the way other, smarter enemies are fought. At least on the strategic level, small scale tactics seem to be unchanged. I'm pretty sure the codex contains plenty of strategical recommendations."

"The trouble is finding out which is the most suitable, however." Grumbled Verran.

"Something generic will have to do for now. More important is that we act now."

"You would do well to take the Codex more seriously, outsider."

"He is right, though, Marnuth." Jenrok replied with a stern expression. He went back to the vox-caster and grabbed the receiver. "All forces on the ground, this is Command. Adopt doctrine XII-IV-I. Surround and attack the position indicated by our scout units."

"XII-IV-I? It's been a while since I saw that used in battle. Only once, too." Zeruel commented. "But I must admit, it's kind of a shame it's not used more often."

Both Jenrok and Marnuth raised an eyebrow at Zeruel's implicating that he knew the Codex, against their expectations. Sachiel saw a slight grin appear on Verran's face, who tried not to show it.

Over the course of the next hour the marines made their way to the Ork encampment by foot and surrounded it. Doctrine XII-IV-I goes against most standard doctrines by not having heavy weapons support the tactical and assault marines, but the other way around. This way, a great volume of fire can be effectively unleashed on large hordes of enemies, especially from tactically advantageous such as high ground.

The attack began. Simultaneously, nearly half of the Ork guard towers were incinerated by the miniature suns from plasma cannons. To them, that was obviously a challenge and they ran out from wherever they had been up to then, often that meant the circles around those that started bashing each other's heads in from boredom.

The smell of ozone filled the air near the cannons that then begun their cooling cycles, to be replaced shortly after by the smell of cordite instead as the heavy bolters opened up on the charging mass that had quickly formed itself when shouts of a 'big scrap' passed around the base.

As the greenskins ran up the hills the great streams of bolt shells rained down from, the tactical squads made sure they wouldn't get near the devastator squads while the assault marines kept the Orks from reaching their tactical brethren in turn.

Again the battle was rather one-sided, and by the time the shooting stopped, enough ozone and burnt cordite filled the air to suffocate and poison a mortal man within minutes. The spent bolt casings that littered the ground weighed as much as Sachiel did.

Jenrok pressed the vox-caster's transmission rune. "Command to all captains. Report confirmed Warboss kills."

"III'rd Company reports zero warbosses slain, my lord."

"IX'th Company reporting. No boss kills. I repeat. No boss kills."

"This is IV'th company. Zero on the killcount."

"IIX'th Company reports no boss kills. My apologies, lord."

"Stand by and wait for further orders. Command out."

Jenrok hit the hololith's projection surface, made to withstand such outburst specifically. "What in Guillimans's name is going on? Who is controlling these Emperor forsaken xenos?"

"Zeruel. Aren't the people in the caves a bigger reason for concern?" Sachiel voxed privately.

"Yes they a-" He wanted to answer, but never finished the sentence. "Wait, are you implying...?"

"If the enemy has outsmarted us twice in a row, I think it's safe to assume we've walked into a trap."

"Why don't you tell him? Don't be shy, dreadnoughts tend to be well respected."

"Eh? Well, if you say so." She hesitantly turned to Jenrok. "Master Jenrok, with all due respect, but shouldn't the people... the population, be our top priority right now?"

"You seem to have something more to say. Let's hear it. Your input is going to be as good as any at this point."

"Well, it seems the enemy has outsmarted us right now, regardless of who or what the enemy really is. I think it's fairly safe to assume we walked into a trap."

"Be more specific."

"The first attack was a diversion."

"Yes, we got that much, but what do you make of this? It's just the same. You're saying it's another diversion?"

"Yes, prepared during the time they won with the first."

"Well, tell me something new. That much is obvious."

"As I recall, the Ork camp was built at a complex of caves that was not on any map."

"Your point being?"

"What if that tunnel is part of the assault? What if it connects to the ones we were supposed to defend?"

"Then we need to be quick." Jenrok picked his vox-reciever back up and started shouting orders into it. "Command to all companies. Reserve squads from all companies, drop to Beta Point. Yesterday. All forces on the ground, enter the tunnels at the encampment. Split up at your own discretion if the need arises, same goes for employed tactics. Make haste, command out."

Jenrok waited not even for confirmations. "Everyone present, to the drop pod bays, we drop NOW!"

Sachiel got her own drop pod, just like on Rabort VI during the Tau invasion, while Zeruel and the ever silent Mebahiah shared one with the Chapter Master and his Honor Guard. The blood red pods were dropped before those of the reserve squads hit the ground.

Zeruel contacted Sachiel during the drop. "Sachiel, You amaze me time after time again. You'd have made the Chapter proud had it yet lived."

"Really? I'm somewhat happy to hear that, but... I somehow can't be too enthusiastic about it. I'm sorry."

"I don't understand. You serve the Emperor so well. That is a reward of it's own."

"That may be, but it's not the life I was meant to live. Or at least, the life I thought I was meant to live. I apparently got this talent for war, but I don't want that talent! Imagine our roles reversed and finding out that you make a surprisingly pretty bride?"

"I'd... What?" He looked at her image on the pictstream in his helmet with a look of severe confusion.

Sachiel produced a low-pitched, vox-distorted giggle as she imagined him in a fancy dress.

"I see your point, and I apologise, but there is nothing either of us can do to change that now."

"I know. I know it's been nearly a year since my life practically ended. But I still can't get used to this."

"You seem to at least have gotten used to your voice enough to finally laugh without feeling uncomfortable."

"I got used to that a while ago, just didn't often have a reason to laugh."

"Now don't be so down, you'll feel better about it all soon enough, I promise. For now you have a duty to perform, so get into character."

"Give me a second. I'll be ready when we land."

"Sure. Have faith, you can do this."

When Sachiel stepped out of her pod, the reserve squads had already gone into the tunnels.

"Let's go, let's go!" Jenrok called out to his honor guard. He started running ahead with the rest soon following. "Any inspiring words, chaplain?" He asked Sachiel without slowing down.

Sachiel's heart would have stopped right that instant if she still had one. In a single instant her mind raced across a vast empty space, trying but failing to even see a glimpse of something, anything, that could get her out of this one. Images of her secret's discovery and by extension her life's end were quickly followed by those things she so missed and never would see again. Then it hit her, and she complied to the Chapter Master's request.

"Every life counts. Every life lost is an unrecoverable blow to mankind. Every blow to mankind is an unforgivable insult to the Imperium. Every insult to the Imperium is a grave affront to the Emperor!" She never told anyone, short of Zeruel when he asked later, that she was merely quoting her speech from that Imperial Guard movie she so liked. She liked it because it was not as characteristically brutal as most of its kind, but that was also the reason nobody thought it sounded like a Guardsman's speech. "Will you stand for that?"

"Never!" Came the answer from all marines in unison, except Zeruel who thanks to knowing Sachiel's secret was unable to utter a word.

Sachiel was taken aback for a second too, not expecting any favorable form of response. It worked. It actually worked. She mentally sighed in relief. "I can't hear you! Will. You. Stand. For. That?"

"NEVER!"

Sachiel would have smiled if she still could, and the thought of the inability stung her depressingly, but it could not penetrate her sense of relief and that slight tinge of pride.

They ran on and eventually reached deep into the tunnels where the reserve squads had already positioned themselves, but they were not alone. They were already in mortal combat with the greenskins with barking bolters and revving chainswords.

The rocky caves were quite wide at this point, wide enough to fit two land raider tanks side by side without fear of bumping into eachother. That was wide enough to allow for a large incoming stream of Orks, but not enough to effectively defend, especially because there were no elevated positions for the Devastator squad to fire down from, over the heads of their Assault brethren who formed the first line. This meant the Assault marines had to take the brunt of the force. To top it off, the enclosed area of the cave made the use of their jump packs impossible. The only reason the defensive line had not been broken yet was because these were just the first few Orks.

Master Jenrok gave the order. "Engage at will!"

At once, seven bolters answered the call and added their fire to that of the tactical squads. Jenrok drew his sword, a millennia old relic. The long, pure white blade of the weapon, often used with two hands, cackled with with an angry red lightning-like power field. He carried a large storm shield in his other hand which was often referred to as a tower shield because of its size. It was the Chapter Master's ancient artificer armor that provided the strength necessary to wield both at the same time.

While the Honor Guard followed him, shooting their guns along the way to cover their charge, Jenrok ran straight at the enemy, intent on supporting the assault squad that heroically held their ground.

In the meanwhile, Orks threw themselves at Imperial chainswords en masse. While they often managed to get off a blow, they were mostly blocked or just bounced off on the ceramite plating that was part of the reason why space marines are so hard to kill.

Normally, techmarines and apothecaries stay behind the first line of defence, due to their value as support. But there were no tanks for him to attend to in these caves, so unlike Mebahiah, who already brought up a fresh magazine before his gun ran dry, Zeruel joined in the charge.

Zeruel's bolter clicked on an empty chamber and he mag-locked it to his tool belt. Instead, he grasped his Mechanicus issue power axe with both hands and started firing his plasma cutter at the green tide. At that point Jenrok was already hacking Orks in twain with his large sword and it seemed to cost him no discernible effort at all.

Throughout all this, Sachiel stayed behind, joining the devastator squads instead. While they had trouble firing through the defensive line of their brothers, Sachiel had no such problem. Her ammo drums rattled as they evacuated their contents through the already fire blackened muzzles of her autocannons. The deafening report of her guns echoed through the caves and made dust come down from its ceiling.

She had been told to fire in bursts. She did, but the great amount of enemies made those bursts follow each other seamlessly in an endless stream of shells.

Like Zeruel, the Sons of Orar veterans had stowed their bolters in favor of their relic weaponry. Ashver carried an impressively ornate and equally large double-headed battle-axe with perfectly straight blades that formed a capital letter 'M' with the handle. He used it to cleave a Nob from shoulder to waist in two, as if it wore no armor whatsoever.

Brothers Fexor and Hevar were engaged with a squad of Boyz when a Trukk rumbled into the cave. They hefted their swords, asymmetrical weapons with a gap through most of the blade's length and saw-teeth along most of the back, and waited for it to ram its way through its own kind and into the defensive line. It came, and they each took a side of the trukk, swinging their impressive weapons into the front of the vehicle and out through the other side, spraying their surroundings with sparks and metal debris. The identical swords were naturally appointed to the twins, and they knew exactly who, or indeed what, to use them against, and how to do it to masterfully show the blades' full destructive potential.

Verran's relic weapon was unique in that in consisted of two one-handed blades, each fixed to a gauntlet not unlike lightning claws. He became Champion by employing these blades so skillfully in battle that he often held the highest kill-count, decreasingly rarely even eclipsing that of Chapter Master Jenrok himself. He was everywhere at the same time, seeking the largest concentrations of enemies to play to the strengths of these weapons, slashing all around him with a speed a mortal man's eye had a hard time following, but never leaving the vicinity of his fellow honor guard and of course his master.

Marnuth carried the chapter banner, and he took his job of protecting it as seriously as any in his position. He constantly stayed every so closely out of melee, using digital lasers, bolt pistol and boltgun to keep the filthy xenos from having even a chance of damaging the precious icon of honor. His affinity with close range combat is the reason he was selected for this sacred duty in the first place. Zeruel never saw someone reload two weapons so quickly before, especially considering the extra weight of the auxiliary grenade launchers the entire squad had equipped, but saved for later when their limited ammunition would be more crucial to victory.

Zeruel had only slight trouble keeping up, his long handled axe allowed him to often slash three or four Orks at a time and now that he reached the front he could use his flamer mechadendrite to help thin the enemy ranks while crushing alien skulls behind him with his servo arms.

All of that happened in the time span of a few seconds, and following the destruction of the Trukk, a primary target - that is, a Warboss - hopped from the wrecked vehicle along with his retinue of Nobz, all of them shouting their primitive war cries at the top of their lungs while they mashed a few of their lesser kin out of the way.

Vox connections were established and sit-reps were given at the same time, drowning each other out, but Sons of Orar Chapter Master had already seen the situation and linked it to the unintelligible reports. "Everyone who is not tied up, engage Primary! Concentrate fire!" To lead in battle, one had to concentrate on the fight, yet still take in reports and give out orders accordingly. Having lead the chapter for decades, Jenrok did this without a second thought.

All of the marines in close combat were indeed tied up in it, short of the twins who had made the shared vehicle 'kill' in the first place. But while normal Ork Boyz aren't all that small, Nobz have outgrown even space marines and a Warboss was an even bigger and stronger version of that. The twins could take him, if he was alone. Maybe with 2 or 3 Nobz, but there were many more of those. At least a dozen and a half, they reckoned.

Sachiel heard the reports over her vox too, and her cogitator array could even separate them near-perfectly by means of complex Fourierus and Laplacius transformations that even most lower-ranked Tech-priests knew nothing about, the ability to create such advanced hard and software long lost to time's eroding effect on technology and humanity's knowledge thereof.

Her focus on the described threats made the familiar red and orange boxes appear around them, her targeting software using range and environmental data to calculate and automatically apply all ballistic data necessary for firing a burst that would take out the most of them. It was, however, in vain as Fexor and Hevar were already locked in combat with the Nobz by that time.

This was also the reason none of the devastators could effectively engage them, their weapons built for suppressive fire and area-denial. The risk of friendly fire was too high. The tactical marines had problems of their own. While the holy bolter is a magnificent weapon, the Nobz, and especially the Warbosses tend to scavenge all the armor they can find and have their Mekboyz build them powered suits of armor, very crude and primitive devices that attempted to mimic the armor worn by the Emperor's Chosen. Those suits succeeding in keeping most standard boltgun fire out while none of the marines had the time to aim at weak spots in the fast-paced struggle.

The thought of it coming down to her frightened Sachiel, and it clouded her thoughts for a moment. In the meanwhile the fight raged on and the Nobz started engaging other marines while the Warboss pushed them aside to do battle with the twins.

The moment lasted a mere two seconds, but during that time she saw Hevar deal a blow to the huge hulking Ork, who shrugged it off and whacked it's attacker to the side with his gun arm. She saw him stand up again while his brother covered for him. She also saw an assault marine cut through the armor of a Nob. She saw how much fiercer those bigger greenskins fought than their lesser kin, and how they overwhelmed the marines who were already busy with the horde of Boyz. She saw how one of them died, shouting his final war cry while cleaving one last Nob in half. "FOR THE EMPEROR, AND FOR THE CHAPTER!"

That pushed her over the edge. Something had to be done. Now. It was all that thrice-damned Warboss' fault. His and his cronies. He brought them here. Emperor damn him for taking the lives of the protectors of the Imperium. Her vision tunnelled, as she felt anger for the first time in battle. No, she thought, that is a lie. She had generally been too afraid to notice it, both of the battles itself and of what fighting them would make her, but she had hated the Orks from the start. This entire battle, once she looked back on it, was different. She had felt more eager to fight even in the command chamber and she finally understood why.

It took her a while to notice that her vision not only seemed to tunnel, but it actually did. Her visual sensorium had zoomed in on its target and her HUD overlaid very precise targeting data, the adjustments for windage and elevation for basic things like range all the way to things like the Coriolius effect and the gravitational pull of the planet's moons.

Not understanding what they meant, she disregarded all of them, hoping the system would apply all the effects by default as she fired a round. It did, and the round struck the roaring green giant in the head, but bounced off its armor harmlessly. It surprised her that she had only fired once while she had planned for a short burst, but after she felt it jerk her to one side at the second try she quickly deduced that precision shooting could do without the recoil of the other guns.

The second shot had bounced off just like the first. It frustrated Sachiel, but it had the same effect on the Warboss, buying the twins precious seconds of time. She fired three more shots in relatively rapid succession, the third finally hitting something of importance. Sparks erupted violently from the hulking beast's armor suit as several of the power cables connecting its backpack to the Powa Klaw were ruptured by the exploding shell.

The Primary target had trouble lifting its suddenly heavy and useless weapon and tried to flail around with it but managed to hit nothing due to the sudden lack of balance, as far as there ever was any. The two brother marines saw their chance and went in for the kill, lobbing off an arm and a leg, then the other arm and the head. They quickly joined the fights around them, not even thinking about celebrating the kill.

They helped the others finish off the mob of Nobz and everyone they helped started consolidating on the enemy who, noticing that their biggest and strongest members were slain, decided to make a run for it. All but the most enraged of them disengaged and fell back. That is exactly what the Devastator squads had been hoping for all along and they strode forwards as they readied their heavy weapons. As the other marines retreated behind them they opened fire with unparalleled fury and cut them down with what amongst the marines of the IX'th company passed for expert marksmanship.

The battle was finally over, but even now Sachiel felt things were not quite right. There should have been an attack much worse, and there should have been many more casualties, as much as the thought appalled her. Only one marine had died and... that was her fault. If only she had not hesitated to fire. If only... No, not now. "There's plenty of time to hate yourself later." She thought. This war was not yet over and it was about to get a whole lot worse.

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><p>Well, it looks like this is going to be a three-parter.<p> 


	11. Chapter 11

Thanks for the reviews, guys, I love you. No homo.

Reviews and C&C are welcome for this chapter too!

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><p><strong>Chapter 11<strong>

Even though the worst was yet to come, things were finally quiet, for now. Besides that marine that Sachiel saw dying, two more were wounded and Mebahiah tended to them first. He removed the main armor segments for Zeruel to perform field repairs and basic maintenance on, while he applied antiseptic to the cuts and shot wounds they had suffered.

Space marines have an extraordinary capability to heal wounds quickly, and by the time Mebahiah removed the last bullet from their bodies the wounded noted they felt fine, and thanked him for his service, despite it being different than that of their own apothecaries.

Then came the harder part. He moved over to the fallen battle brother a few paces to the other side of the crudely dug tunnel. By standard procedure, Mebahiah checked for a pulse. It was always good to be sure. Although very weakly, he definitely felt the beat of a single heart, the marine's original and weaker human one.

As Mebahiah quickly grabbed his medical supplies, the marine grabbed his arm and when the apothecary turned around he shook his head. He tried to move his lips but no sound came out but Mebahiah had seen enough marines take their last breath to know. "Don't waste your supplies on me." He would have said. "It's no use, I feel it."

Mebahiah also knew a marine would never give up if there was even a slight chance of recovery, so those words were always final. He looked up at Jenrok for confirmation, who nodded.

"I'll grant you the Emperor's peace, brother, but first, tell me your name."

The fallen marine had not expected the apothecary to care, just to do his job. He felt that he owed it to him to answer his question properly in return and he barely succeeded, his voice too low to hear for an unaugmented man and without the sensorium of Astartes power armor.

"Per... seus."

"You deserved it, brother Perseus. May you continue the eternal war at His side."

Mebahiah put his carnifex to Perseus' temple, and released the spring-loaded piston that euthanized the warrior painlessly.

"I shall now give the Chapter the Chapter's due." He announced as he removed the ancient suit of armor, so that it can be bestowed upon a new recruit. Sachiel dared not watch as Mebahiah extracted the gene-seed from the fallen marine and stored both progenoid glands in a tempered glass cylinder. He then stood up and turned to the Chapter's Master and knelt before him, holding up the cylinder which Jenrok took from him, both remaining silent as there was nothing to be said that they not already knew.

A Thunderhawk was sent to resupply the task-force. It carried ammunition in every free space that could be found, even inside the two Rhino APCs it carried. The Rhinos would take all the supplies the marines failed to carry themselves with them deeper into the caves.

"Rendez-vous and resupply outside the complex, then escort the Rhinos back in." Jenrok ordered to everyone on the vox-net.

The words rung in her cogitator array for a few seconds before they got through to Sachiel and when they did she quickly followed behind them, the last to leave the cave. The rearguard is often the most dangerous position in a formation, so none of the marines thought it strange that a dreadnought would do this.

The walk back to the exit was quite uneventful which allowed Sachiel to worry about all kinds of things. She knew, without a doubt, that many good people would die today, and all she could do was minimize the damage. The fact that she knew this itself troubled her as well. She was changing so much, so rapidly, or maybe she was always like this but never noticed, that she failed to keep up with herself. It was like she was living someone else's life. And now she failed to save someone too. Someone who had spent decades doing his job keeping the Imperium safe, preventing worlds to suffer the fate hers did. She had to get her mind off of these thoughts, at least for the duration of the battle. She decided to chat with Zeruel on a private channel.

"Zeruel, if we get back, you have to tell me more about that zooming function I seem to have."

"I figured that's how you managed those shots. Not bad for someone who just discovered it. With enough practice you could make that same hit on your first shot at almost 500 meters."

"That sounds... useful. Say, do you think we'll have enough ammunition for the real battle?"

"Real battle? Well, we got two Rhinos full, and then some. Look, those vehicles just before the tunnel entrance... You remember them from the manufactoria on Zestra III, don't you?"

"Yes, that is why I ask."

"Have you seen how much can even fit inside those?"

"Yes. Again, that's why I ask. How many Rhinos would you need to carry all the ammunition expended on Zestra III?"

"Three-hundred and thirteen. I see your point, but here we are dealing with a smaller invasion force and most of that ammunition was dropped in pods, just like we were."

"How do you plan to drop pods into caves? Isn't that why they sent the Rhinos in the first place? Besides, there have already been more of the Orks than expected. There is no telling how many they're hiding underground."

"Sachiel, you worry me." Zeruel's voice indeed sounded worried.

"Because you're right, but mostly because... well... Since when do teenage girls have such a grasp of the fine details of strategic deployment and warfare?"

"I do? It just seems logical to me. That, and... If I don't keep myself busy with something to distract me, I feel like I might go insane."

"Well, up to now, you've been exceeding my expectations of you by several orders of magnitude. At first I feared you wouldn't even be suited for combat of any kind and now you display an understanding of the bigger pict on par with that of most sergeant marines. By comparison, it takes them several decades, at least, to achieve that rank."

"Why does that worry you?"

"Because the Emperor did not give me a companion as talented as you if He didn't think I would need one. Especially because he felt the need to sacrifice a whole Chapter of space marines for that purpose. But..."

"But...?"

"I have faith in you, Sachiel. I know you can do this."

"I don't share your confidence, but i hope you're right."

"Yeah, let's work on that confidence of yours. Then let us talk about what it is that bothers you so much after this is all over."

"Yes, we have work to do." Sachiel disconnected the link as they exited the cave to join the other marines that were already mag-locking bolter magazines and grenades to their armor, refilling their ammunition back-packs or cleaning their chainswords with the appropriate rites.

The sky was clear and the sunlight blinded the two for a second. Then Zeruel went to speak to Mebahiah before restocking his own supplies.

"You did well to honor the Sons of Orar. I'm glad you helped things go smoothly between us and them, as chapters."

"Thank you, brother." Mebahiah answered. Then privately added. "Don't tell them that was the first time I ever removed a fallen brother's progenoid glands without help."

Zeruel followed his example before replying. "Well it's good that you got some practice, because it looks like we're going to need your skills a lot in the coming hours." He then switched back to open comms. "Hurry up and finish preparing so you can help me resupply Sachiel."

"Do you think I should get more grenades or ammunition?"

"I'd leave the grenades to the tactical and assault squads and get as many extra mags as you can carry. We're gonna need you capable of defending yourself."

"Right. Then I'll be there when you finish restocking yourself."

"Acknowledged. Let's not waste time." Zeruel disconnected the vox-link and went inside the Thunderhawk gunship and decided to heed his own advice and exchange the few grenades he had for extra ammunition as well. He came out carrying a quartet of drums of autocannon rounds, his servo-arm passing one to Mebahiah, who waited with Sachiel.

"Brother Techmarine." Zeruel looked to his other side and saw the twins Fexor and Hevar.

"Let us help. Borther sachiel sure made our jobs a lot easier, after all."

"Sure." Zeruel answered as he passed a drum to either of them.

The four marines working together did the job in record time, after which the red-armored brothers personally thanked the three Angels of Doom for their participation, and Sachiel in specific for her help with the warboss.

"You owe me no thanks." Sachiel said to them.

"Well, either way it doesn't hurt to show our appreciation." Fexor paused, allowing Hevar to continue. "Any help is welcome against a Warboss."

Their voxes clicked. "Jenrok to all units. Time to go back in. Honor guard, with me, we take point. Squad III-X, take the rear. Our honored guests may take the central position, we're going to need them. That's all, move out."

"Brother Zeruel, do you really think we need this much ammunition?" Mebahiah asked him.

"The Brother-Chaplain believes we don't have nearly enough. I recommend you conserve it as much as possible."

"Brother-Chaplain, how come you believe this?"

"It is like I said aboard the Unending Fury, up until now this battle has been far too easy. There is more to it. Remember that we are dealing with an enemy that to this moment succeeds to outsmart us."

Just as Sachiel finished speaking, a loud bang resonated through the caves, and alien shouting could be heard in the distance when the initial sound died down. "Make haste!" Jenrok ordered, but everyone was already running.

It took not much longer before less alien shouts were heard. Whatever that meant it was not going to be anything good. It took just a short time to reach the source of the sounds, but every second was still one too much.

They passed their previous battlefield, Orks laying dead in large piles and the tunnel walls covered in impact craters and blood. They went the other way of the T-section and stood before a large cavity, a node in the network of tunnels. Orks filled the place, streaming from a still smoking hole in the wall and fought with the population, whose warriors went to meet the Orks with weapons and fighting styles similarly primitive.

Women and children presumably hid deeper in the caverns, but it was the men, the potential recruits, who were now dying at the hands of the brutal greenskins.

All marines with the weapons to do so charged into the ongoing melee. "Remember the words of the Chaplain, every life counts, because they will be the battle-brothers of the future! Dare not dishonor the Chapter, the Primarch, the Emperor, with friendly fire!"

Zeruel was unsure whether that was standard for the Sons of Orar, since most chapters could care less about a few mortals. Sure, it helped that this was their recruiting world, but he nonetheless suspected it had little to do with caring for the populace. It would at best be a sign of respect for his own chapter, believing that the Angels of Doom take such things very seriously.

Truth is, they never did. Not a lot, anyway, and neither did the Angels of Absolution. In reality it was just Sachiel, but he understood it was painful for her to see innocent people die. He knew this since the beginning, but with her speech earlier today she had a good point. After all, the Emperor protects the Imperium and its people, so would it not be pointless to fight for the Emperor while leaving his people to die?

Zeruel grinned inside his helmet thinking about this, while firing carefully aimed single shots at the enemy with both his boltgun and his plasma cutter. Mebahiah followed this example carefully. Even the flamer carrying tactical marines switched to their bolt pistols.

Even now, greenskins were streaming from the opening and Sachiel tried to stop them from entering en masse with a concentrated volume of fire, the High Explosive shells impacting to shred the Orks apart in a bloody gore. Sachiel could hear the rattling of her belt-feeds and lamented having to expend so much ammunition so early on, comforting herself with the knowledge each shell was slaying at least one xenos, often more. At least, she kept telling herself that was a good thing.

Squad IV-X reached the hole in the wall, cleared to use their flamer and doing so with great fury, shouting litanies of hate at the top of their lungs. "Burn the alien! Purge their foul kind!" They cried out as one, switching fire selectors to full auto.

It stopped the Orks from reinforcing the ones already in the cave, but not for long. Two more explosions each breached the large stone cavity and more of the damnable creatures came pouring in, shooting their crude, blasphemous copies of the holy bolter with an inaccuracy that only another Ork could match. They killed as many of themselves as they did of the planet's inhabitants, while the marines' power armor bounced them off harmlessly.

At this point there were so many of them that the Astartes could not help but rely on the help of the feral warriors of this world. Matters were made worse by the death of the marine that held the first breach with his flamer. Before one of his squad mates could pick it up the green tide was upon them and they had to switch their bolters for their combat knives and bolt pistols to engage the xenos in a crude melee, allowing even more of their kind to join the fray.

Each of the Rhinos covered one of the second two breaches with their pintle-mounted storm bolters, but even with their high rate of fire their effect was marginal at best as there seemed no end to the enemy's numbers. This caused Jenrok to order his honor guard to split up and defend these critical points.

The order had meant that most marines were in close combat with the aliens, forcing Sachiel to fire single shots at targets of opportunity in order to avoid hitting an ally.

One such a target presented itself as a battlewagon broke through one of the holes, widening it in the process. By the time the flying rocks and debris fell and the dust settled Sachiel had disabled the vehicle with a few aimed shots to the engine.

Just like the Trukk in the previous battle, this transport carried a Warboss and his Nob followers, but instead of engaging it Sachiel was forced to turn to another of the breaches, where the same thing happened. Jenrok saw this, unable to assist. "Primary targets! For Orar, for the Chapter, show them what it means to be a Space Marine!"

Several marines died at the hands of these warbosses, inflicting on minor wounds but dying fighting, before members of the honor guard could intercept them, taunting them to focus their attention on themselves. The twins took on one of them, while Marnuth, despite having to protect the chapter banner, and Ashver took the second one. Ashver's weapon was powerful enough to kill the warboss by itself, but Ashver himself still required Marnuth to distract it while he attacked.

The problem was that both duos of veterans were not fighting the warbosses alone, as they each had to fight off a small horde of Nobz too. Whether it was coincidence, a Codex tactic, or even the Emperor who was with them, Sachiel knew not, but she was surprised to see both solve the problem in the same manner.

Coordinating their maneuver over the open vox channel, they met up with the devastator marine that were spread over the area, clearing themselves a path while continuously taunting the big hulking Orks. One of them hit a marine who happened to be in his way, angered by the 'cowardly 'umies' that seemed to run away from him, with a backhand blow from his power claw, discharging lethal energies in a small thunderous explosion that killed the marine outright.

The other warboss was similarly angered, shooting in the general direction of the offending veterans, hitting Marnuth with several shots. One dug itself into his leg armor, barely stopped by the thick ceramite plates while another made a deep gash in his gilded pauldron. He would rather have been injured himself, because the third round hit not him, but shot a hole in the sacred banner he carried.

The offending warboss might as well have put a hole in it's own head while it was at it because Marnuth, when Ashver pointed out the hole to him, 'asked' the other veteran to let him borrow the twin-headed axe. "Give me that for a minute."

"Go ahead, I don't wanna be in your way when you're like this." Ashver chuckled, pulling out his combat knife and bolt pistol for the duration to keep lesser enemies off Marnuth's back.

Marnuth grabbed the great weapon with one hand, his boltgun in the other, and swung it around to get a feel for it. It was his own impressive strength, fueled by a righteous fury, that made it possible to use the weapon like that, because unlike Jenrok's suit of power armor, Marnuth's was never made with using such weapons single-handedly in mind.

A Nob wanted to charge at him, but was whacked to the side by the Warboss. "Dis 'ere humie iz mine, git outta my way." The other Nobz quickly scurried off to find other marines to fight.

"I'z gonna stomp ya, humie, I'z gonna stomp ya gud! WAAAAAAGH!" The creature shouted as he ran towards Marnuth, who halted and entered a prepared stance. The warboss charged at the standard bearer, who raised Ashver's axe and swung it. At the same time, the warboss swung his powerclaw wildly at Marnuth, the two weapons clashing in a discharge of energy that sounded like a demolisher shell exploding.

The two duelists were blown back by the thunderclap. Thank to its bulk and weight, the monstrous Ork managed to stay on his feet, while Marnuth had Ashver's quick reactions to thank for that, who caught him and pushed him back up and towards his target even before his armor's auto-stabilizers had the time to respond properly.

Marnuth came at the warboss with a vengeful fury unlike any other. The xenos deflected Marnuth's blow with a defensive swipe of his close combat weapon, but he left an opening in doing so and the veteran quickly swung his battle-brother's heavy weapon around and cut off the clawed arm. The greenskin giant roared one last time before Marnuth used his armor's weight and bulk to push the unbalanced Ork on its side and swung the relic axe through the creature's neck.

By that time, the other warboss was fooled into charging after the other two veterans. It was lured right in their trap. The twins cleared a way through the horde towards the closest devastator marine they could find in the non-stop fighting mass.

The barbaric alien charged right into a burst of heavy bolter shells. Before it even registered the fact a lot of its own body matter was being torn away by the impacts the twins each let their swords come down on one the warboss' shoulders, cleaving straight down. Mere seconds later the xenos filth lay dead on the rocky floor.

Two reloads later, Sachiel saw the steam of Orks coming from the three breaches finally seemed to decrease in volume. During that time, her armor was stripped of paint by explosions, re-blackened by fire and dented by the great volumes of high caliber fire the greenskins managed to put out. She had only ever stopped firing to reload, those two times, and again her ammo counters turned red.

That was before the last warboss entered the cave. Its retinue of Meganobz apparently made this the leader, which Sachiel's digital librarium called a Warlord. She knew not why, but her systems pointed at the Meganobz as the highest priority targets. There was probably a reason for that which she might learn of later, but now she just did as was suggested and started unloading her remaining ammunition on them.

She found some of her shells bouncing off, missing weak spots by a hair. She quickly adjusted and fired again whenever that happened, resulting in green chunks raining down amidst a red mist every time, while pieces of crudely forged armor bounced off the armor of the Orks and marines surrounding the victim with a clang.

Jenrok himself assaulted the Warlord, an exceptionally big greenskin, even amongst the warbosses. Zeruel left Mebahiah, who at this point spent more time taking care of wounded marines and the planet's inhabitants than he did shooting, to defend himself, in order to help his colleague chapter master.

Sachiel never saw what happened, too concentrated on using her last few rounds effectively, her zoom function not allowing for any peripheral vision. When her ammo drums ran dry, the Warlord already lay dying, if not already dead.

And so did Jenrok. The veterans had gathered around him, Verran shouting for an apothecary over the vox-net. Even if Mebahiah had arrived earlier, there would have been nothing he could have done. The Master of the Sons of Orar was left with only half his body, the lower half crushed by the warlord's close combat weapon even while Jenrok stabbed it in the throat with his great sword.

"Verran..." Jenrok was still barely alive, most likely by virtue of sheer willpower. "Verran you shall" He paused to cough up a bit of blood. "succeed me."

"Master, you can't die here!" Verran replied, shocked.

"The librarium *cough* holds all the information you need. Also..." More blood was expelled from Jenrok's mouth. "Me.. Mebahiah was it?" The apothecary nodded silently. "Tell your brothers you have earned your recruits."

Jenrok turned his head to Verran again. "I trust you to take care of the rest. And when your time comes, die better than I did."

"Yo- You died well, master Jenrok. It was a great honor serving you." Verran would never know for sure whether Jenrok had heard him finish, but he died with a triumphant smile.

The other marines, those who could still move, gathered around as quickly as they could after killing the last of the thrice-damned aliens. Those who wore them took off their helmets.

Verran saw this and activated his vox-transmitter in the collar of his armorsuit. "Verran to all Companies. You are to rendez-vous at my location. Master Jenrok... has fallen."

Everyone waited until all of the marines arrived. The last came in delayed, carrying their wounded and fallen. The all knelt, down to the last arrival. Mebehiah stepped back, next to Zeruel and Sachiel, maintaining a respectful distance.

It took a while before Verran spoke. "Brothers. From this day on the Chapter shall be under my command. I swear on the blood of my predecessor the late Chapter Master Jenrok, on the Codex written by our Primarch Roboute Guilliman, and on the Throne of the Emperor Himself, to lead us all to victory in every battle we fight, and to die in defiance of the enemies of the Imperium."

All marines, even the veterans of the honor guard, knelt before Verran. "Master Verran." Marnuth spoke. "We are yours to command. Give us your orders." With this, everyone showed their approval of their new leader.

"Ensure the Chapter's future. Gather the wounded and the fallen, I'll have thunderhawks waiting outside the cave, then come back and take 2 recruits for every marine that has died today."

After everyone got around to doing their jobs, Zeruel and his companions went up to Verran, first and foremost to offer their condolences. "His was a great loss for the Imperium. I pray that yours will be as great, though not as soon." Zeruel said.

"Thank you, brother. I shall pray for the resurrection of your Angels as well."

"You spoke of only 2 recruits per fallen marine, though. Is the population that small?"

"Yes, but it is not just for that reason. The thing is, for some reason these people are highly compatible with the gene-seed. That is why we keep this recruiting world, even though it is located on the other side of the galaxy from our Fortress Monastery, and why it pays off to even consider recruiting here. There used to be three concentrations of inhabitants, but the other two were lost centuries ago and the records of the how and why of the matter were lost to us."

"Then it seems we owe the Emperor our eternal gratitude, as far as we didn't already. The amount of gene-seed our chapter still possesses is... limited. I guess this is what the rumors meant when speaking of exceptionally suitable warriors."

"Exactly. Let's head back to the Unending Fury for debriefing."

In the command chamber, Verran quickly explained to the company captains what transpired inside the caves on their end. "Now tell us what happened on the other side."

III'rd company captain Stervius saluted. "As soon as... late Master Jenrok gave the order, we went into the cave. We split up, three squads of each company went with one of us captains into the three tunnels that the Orks probably dug. We maintained vox-contact, and it seems the same thing happened for all of us."

"Which is?"

"We chased after the greenskins" Captain Basean of IIX'th company continued. "Most of them broke off their assault to fight us instead. We killed all those that did, but failed to catch up with the rest soon enough to make a difference on your end, Master." He bowed apologetically.

"What about the scouts?"

"Ordered them to keep watch at the tunnel entrance on our side. I have arranged that they are picked up at that location already. They reported the area to be clear."

"Good. Then all company captains are expected to provide me with a detailed report including losses by tomorrow's morning prayers. Dismissed." Verran said with a sigh, knowing losses were high.

The captains saluted Verran, who made the sign of the Aquila to them as they left.

"Now about the matter of the... of my honor guard. Marnuth, Ashver told me about your fight with the warboss."

Marnuth knelt down. "Forgive me, Master, for bringing shame upon our banner. I'll take any punishment you deem fit."

"You shall no longer carry the banner." Verran said, but continued before Marnuth could respond. "Instead, as soon as the Old Master's wargear has been repaired and I inherit that, you shall be the one to receive what I wear now."

"Master?"

"I'm impressed with the way you fought your enemy. I've always believed you were more suited to be a Champion than I was. That said, you shall indeed do penance for your tactical mistake. The maneuver itself was flawless, but to execute it while carrying our sacred banner was a blunder."

"I have no excuse for my lack of insight. I swear to learn from my mistake."

"Good. They say experience is all knowledge learnt from mistakes. Until the time I give you my armor, you shall be attached to the X'th company to share that experience of yours. That of today, and of your entire time of service to the Emperor."

There was great shame in telling about one's mistakes to any audience, but Marnuth knew he deserved it, and his honor as a Space Marine meant he had to bear this shame in order to repent. He bowed and left when Verran dismissed him.

The Angels were finally called into the chamber and immediately noticed that it was Ashver who was now holding the banner. None of them mentioned it, however, feeling that the issue might be why there were not called in sooner.

"Honored allies, please come in."

"I hope your losses are minimal, Master Verran." Zeruel said.

"I have yet to see the full report, but yes, I hope so too. Right now though, I want to thank you on behalf of the Sons of Orar and the late Master Jenrok. Your Chaplain's quick thinking made a significant difference in the outcome of this battle, your Apothecary patched up several brothers who would otherwise have died of their wounds, and you fought with more fury than I have seen in a techmarine to date."

"Thank you for the kind words. We are honored to have fought alongside the Sons of Orar. I was impressed with how well-executed all your maneuvers were."

"Our deal was that you could recruit anyone you saved. Since you have mentioned only needing two, I have taken the freedom to have the best two selected for you. If there is anything else we can help you with, you have but to ask."

Mebahiah stepped forward. "Then, if I may be so rude, Lord, our space ship's medical bay is... ill-suited for gene-seed transplantation. I have found it to be impossible to rebuild it for this purpose myself, and lack the machinery. Any help that can be spared is welcome."

"I'll lend you the assistance of any techmarines and apothecaries that aren't occupied with the wounded. It may take a few hours before any are free however. I'll also have them bring any equipment we can miss."

"You have our gratitude, Lord."

"Now, if you'll excuse me, there is much to take care of."

Zeruel nodded as he made the sign of the Aquila and left with the other Angels. "The Emperor protects."

"The Emperor protects." Verran repeated.

* * *

><p>Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed this chapter too.<p> 


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

"Sachiel, open this door." Zeruel knocked on the cold metal with his armored knuckles, without a doubt loudly enough for Sachiel to hear, but he got no answer. "You know I'll have it open in no time at all if I have to do it myself."

Still no answer. The techmarine sighed and opened up the console of the electronic lock, connecting a wire to it from inside his armor's collar. He whispered a prayer, asking the machine spirit for forgiveness for this forceful attempt to open the code-locked door. The machine spirit proved very understanding and decided to provide entrance to Zeruel with only minimal persuasion.

Inside, Sachiel sat inside her maintenance pit, facing away from the door. Zeruel's metal footsteps approached her slowly but without hesitation until the last few steps, but even then she was too preoccupied to notice the fact.

"Is it really that hard for you to get used to fighting?" Zeruel's words would have been harsh, if not for his attempt to sound as understanding as the lock's machine spirit had been. He continued when he still got no answer. "You had me thinking you did, because you did an impressive job. I'm sure the Sons of Orar didn't have the slightest clue that you're not actually an Astartes."

"Yeah, well that's exactly it!" Sachiel's heavy mechanical voice echoed through the chamber loudly. "I'm sorry." She said softly immediately after. "I do think I'm getting used to the fighting. That's what I thought even before combat because I actually felt a little impatience."

"Then clarify the problem, because I fail to see it."

"The problem is that I'm so damned good at it!" She paused, which she would have used to take a deep breath in a previous life. "What in the Warp am I?"

"A Dreadnought, one of the most powerful weapons in the arsenal of the Imperium."

"But that by itself doesn't mean much, does it? As I understand what you told me about dreadnoughts, they are machines that take an exceptionally strong mind and decades of training and experience to use effectively."

"Then you understand correctly."

"Then how come I manage to do it just like that?"

Zeruel sat down next to the girl he miraculously saved. "To be honest, I have no idea. I have been looking into it ever since I saw you improving so quickly. All I keep finding though, is that by all accounts you should have died during the fusing process, even if I did have the expertise to do it. I wouldn't even have considered it had I known what I do now... I'm sorry, I'm probably not helping right now."

Sachiel wasn't sure what to say to that and somehow it seemed to hurt Zeruel to watch her in this state of agonizing she finally spoke, her words felt like hot knives driven into both his hearts. "Am I even human?"

"Throne on Terra! We can't have our Chaplain thinking like that!" He jumped up to face her directly. "You have a responsibility, you know that? I gave you that responsibility because I trust you with it, because I have faith in you." It was unlike him to show much in the way of emotion, having been trained by the Adeptus Mechanicus for over a decade. "Have a little faith in yourself, too."

"How can I have faith in a life that may very well have been a lie for the most part? Given the impossible things I've been doing this is probably the life I'm supposed to be living, but then what purpose served my previous life?"

"You won't find the answers to that by sitting here. The Emperor answers the prayers of those who earn it, so just drop it for now and prove yourself to Him. You're probably being tested so make sure you pass."

"This is not natural no matter how you look at it."

"No it isn't. But until we find out exactly why, there is no use thinking about it."

"What if I'm being corrupted, or already have been?"

"Then it's unlike any corruption I've ever seen."

Even though Zeruel was probably right, Sachiel had a hard time convincing herself of the fact and still felt mostly the same. "Thanks." She said anyway.

"I came to visit you for another reason though. Have you ever thought of teaching?"

"Teaching? What do I have to teach anyone?"

"The new recruits, as you know, come from a very primitive world where they barely speak Low Gothic. I don't have time to teach them everything myself, I have to help Mebahiah with his medicae equipment too, so I want you to take care of subjects like Faith & Spirituality, Basic Tech-Use, Imperial History, Imperial Factions, Chapter History & Traditions... Well, I guess we can drop the traditions, we're hardly traditional anymore."

"All of those?"

"Yes, all of those. It'll be good to have something else on your mind. You might even learn a thing or yourself, in the process." Zeruel moved over to Sachiel's back, unrolling a thin cable. "Stand still, I'll transfer the necessary data from my data slate. Study them over the next Terran month, by that time the recruits will have recovered sufficiently from having their secondary heart implanted. That is, if we can get the medicae bay finished on schedule. There, transfer complete."

Over the course of what turned out to be two Standard Terran months due to unforeseen difficulties in getting the medicae equipment running and the necessary tech-rites to alleviate those, Sachiel studiously examined the files given to her, consisting mostly of a small digital librarium and info-picts. As long as she remained inside the maintenance chamber she was able to link her MIU to the pict-caster normally used to display operational data of her subsystems during maintenance, one of the files explained with steps to performing the appropriate tech-rites.

In another fourteen months, Sachiel had nothing left to teach them, even after analyzing the files she was given down to the tiniest detail. During that time the recruits had their Ossmodula and Biscopea implanted, and started training in hand-to-hand combat. Meanwhile there were several occasions where the broken chapter could not avoid going into battle.

The recruits were of course left on the Heritage of Zestra III but Sachiel was not and as a result of that and still not understanding the how and why of her apparent talents she had become as quiet as Mebahiah.

This seemed to suit the Apothecary just find, and it actually seemed that they came to understand each other a bit better on an unconscious level, greeting each other with a silent nod or bow, but Zeruel became increasingly worried about her mental fortitude and clarity of thought. This, of course, extended to her duties as Chaplain, but that was not his primary concern even though it should have been.

It also didn't help that the battles were fought by the Angels of Doom alone, and not even because they couldn't handle the resistance, but not having allies around, there were no other people to talk to. Zeruel hoped the teaching job would take care of that, but as time went on Sachiel did so increasingly distantly. Despite being one of the Emperor's Chosen, it made him feel powerless.

"Chaplain."

"Brother Mebahiah? Can I help you?"

"I'm not really sure myself, actually. Brother Zeruel asked me to talk to you but he didn't tell me why."

"He is worried." She answered truthfully but misleadingly. She knew he was just by looking him in the eyes. It was probably also the reason he wore his helmet so often lately, though he said it was to check up on data-files while he went about his daily work on the ship's many subsystems. While that was true, she knew it was far from his main reason to do so.

"I'm ashamed to say I see not why."

"If he didn't tell you it was probably his intention for you to come to your own conclusions. If you could do that alone he would not have sent you to me. So tell me, how do you think you've been doing recently?" Sachiel continued answering vaguely and decided to keep her questions the same way until she could find better ones to ask.

"To be honest, I thought I was starting to get used to being an Angel of Doom. I actually felt part of the Chapter for a while. Was I too arrogant in believing that?"

"No." She answered, startled. "You are one of us, a brother. You have proven yourself to be a valuable asset, willing and able to adapt. Zeruel thinks the same way, so please continue."

"It is good to hear that from you, Chaplain. I shall do my best to live up to that reputation." The white armored marine had taken his helmet off when he entered Sachiel's chamber and was now moving it around in his hands, taking a pause to think. Sachiel waited patiently for him to continue. "It might be... I'm not really sure what to think about the apparent lack of a command structure. I find it hard to unlearn my old habits of simply following orders and in all honestly, if you'll forgive me, I had initially expected one of you two to become a chapter master in more than title alone. To this day I don't understand why."

"You should have more confidence. You see, neither Zeruel or I ever found ourselves in a position of command. Because of that, Zeruel no idea how to lead a chapter, which means if he took absolute command, he might oversee things."

"Then what about you?"

"I became an Angel long after Zeruel did. I have not become a Dreadnought because I earned it, but only because I was the only one on Zestra III that could still be saved. In truth, we are no more special than you are."

"I see." Mebahiah said after a short pause, not sure what to think of what he had just been told."

"These are difficult times, brother, and they will not end soon so we'll just have to make the best of it until they do."

"Yes, you're right. You really helped me, I can see why Zeruel made you Chaplain. Thanks for your time, I'll reflect on what you've told me." The Apothecary walked off before Sachiel could think of anything else to say or ask.

The Chaplain was not bothered by that at all, however, as she was mostly confused by the situation. Helped him? She wasn't even aware that she was doing anything in particular to help, much less being suited to her given tasks.

"You give out great advice." A voice behind Sachiel said. She instantly recognized it as Zeruel's.

"What do you mean?" She asked without turning around, the Techmarine already moving towards her.

"Make the best of it. Perhaps you are experiencing more difficulties in these times than any of us, in your own way. It may be harder then, as a result, but your advice is still just as sound." Zeruel gave her the time to reply, but she kept silent. "I hope brother Mebahiah takes your advice too, he still lacks confidence."

"Why did you send him to me? The real reason I mean. Did you plan this?"

Zeruel sighed. "If I were clever enough to plan such a thing I would make a much better Chapter Master. I really don't know why I did... call it a gut feeling."

They both sat there silently for the better part of a Terran hour, unmoving until Sachiel turned to Zeruel. "Maybe you're right, but there's still nothing we can do besides train our recruits."

"Yes, it makes me wish to get back to war."

"I can't say I do, but that's eventually what we're doing this for anyway."

"Indeed. We cannot win a war we are not properly prepared for."

"On an entirely different subject, you said we're exiting the warp in the Gophores system. My databases contain information on it and apparently it's an uninhabited ocean world."

Zeruel looked slightly surprised, raising an eyebrow a barely notable distance. "What about it?"

"I want to visit it. It seems like a great place to calm down and enjoy the view."

"You know, even if we can just requisition fuel for our shuttle, we can't waste the Emperor's resources."

"Yes, I expected you'd say as much, and you're right, so I thought of something to make it worth the cost."

The shuttle touched down on one of the few rocky islands that formed the occasional tiny speck in the single planet covering ocean, stretching just two kilometers from one sandy beach to the other. The lack of solid ground was the primary reason this otherwise beautiful world was uninhabited.

"So when did you think up this 'secret training plan' of yours?"

"You know when we were talking earlier today? Well, the thought of it popped into my mind just before I broke our silence."

"Chaplain" Mebahiah started after climbing out of the shuttle. "will you now tell us what that plan actually is?"

"Almost. First I want everyone to move to the other side of this island. Once there I'll vox you what to do. Is everyone okay with that?"

"I'm too curious to not play along, so sure." Zeruel answered. Mebahiah only nodded and thought to give the recruits a vox bead as well. They had already been given a rather large back with gear that Sachiel had asked Zeruel to pack for them without their knowledge.

The young, black haired Forrustan, which is his Zilvestan name, took it with a respectful bow of his head. He was quite well-built for a recruit at this stage. He would probably make a great Devastator, Sachiel thought. Ofwezto, also a Zilvestan name, on the other had was a tall, lean young man, the ideal build for a quick and agile Assault Marine. Sachiel wondered if the Sons of Orar selected the recruits with that diversity in mind. When he took the vox bead he verbally thanked his white-armored superior, instead of bowing, but with no less respect. "Thank you, my lord."

It made Sachiel quite nervous to have two real Astartes do something she asked of them, but at the same time she was happy they trusted her enough to at least wonder what she might be up to. She had wanted to explain, but wanted to have everyone involved to

Zeruel wondered if he did good by spending his time this way, but also knew that actually proving the girl he trusted her might have been worth the fuel in the first place, if he considered the long term effects. Considering her apparent talent, he felt it would be a low-risk gamble and if he was really honest, he really was too curious by this time to decide otherwise.

Having crossed the two kilometers, Zeruel voxed Sachiel to notify her of this.

"Then I can now tell you what I have planned." Sachiel made sure to connect only to Zeruel's and Mebahiah's vox. "Brothers, what I thought up is a training exercise for Ofwezto and Forrustan. I'll explain that in a minute. If you two would please observe them in the process, I believe it will give you a decent idea of their performance and how to improve it."

Both of them gave a vox-click in confirmation, so Sachiel invited the recruits back into the vox channel. "Forrustan, Ofwezto. You two are tasked with finding and destroying me. Your performance will, for a large part, be measured in how many times I can kill you before you succeed in doing so. You have been given a bag with everything you are allowed to use, and have 60 minutes to prepare. In the meanwhile I will relocate to a position unknown to you. Brother Zeruel, will you keep track of the time on your end?"

"Yes, brother Chaplain."

Sachiel closed her vox link and took the time to walk the shore of this island, enjoying the view of the pristine azure ocean all around her. This somewhat bright moment amongst the more depressing ones led her to wonder just when in the Warp she would wake up from this surreal dream, so she could get out of bed, shower, dress, have breakfast and go back to class. She actually missed going to class. How simple her life was back then, friends and family still alive, her body still intact. She would never have met Zeruel either.

That last thought resonated through her mind. If she were to wake up now, Zeruel would cease to exist forever, to be forgotten as people do most dreams. If given the opportunity, would she exchange him for the people who died? Sachiel felt like she was betraying them, but somehow found it impossible to say yes. He had done so much for her in the past few years. The first months she was unable to speak from mourning, and here she is now, somehow seemingly capable of making a difference to people, and so much more than she ever thought possible, all thanks to him. She could not live long enough to pay him back for that, so she decided to keep dreaming as long as she could.

Mebahiah was following Forrustan. The two scouts-to-be had decided to split up to search for their target, so Zeruel was keeping an eye on Ofwezto. The Apothecary followed the running young man, taking mental notes as he watched. The boy was impatient, evident from his movements, but that was partially the age, Mebahiah knew.

In his attempt to follow the Chaplain's advice, it was Mebahiah who had suggested to split up, despite the fact it was something that didn't really need to be said, but seizing the initiative had allowed him to pick the recruit to follow. He felt a little more connected to Forrustan due to his calmer and quieter demeanor, although his age and inexperience made those terms relative.

It had felt awkward to him, suggesting a course of action to Zeruel, but his proposition was accepted without question. It still did, but now Mebahiah also felt some relief. Brother Sachiel had been right, he should thank her when they finished the exercise. He prayed for the confidence to do the same when the issue was less trivial than this one without taking his eyes off Forrustan.

Zeruel noticed the same impatience in Ofwezto's movements, and was similarly unsurprised at that so he remained silent and watched, his mental notes converted to text files in real-time through his armor's MIU. He made a short pict-sequence of the boy, his sniper rifle slung over his back. Ofwezto's actions soon after revealed why he chose to do this, as he started climbing a rock formation several meters taller than most.

He pulled out a small pair of prey-sense magnoculars, scanning for Sachiel's heat signature. He peered through the device for a minute or two before cursing under his breath, stowing the magnoculars and tapping his vox-bead. "X-I, no sign of target, moving to Delta-IV"

"Copy that. X-I out." Forrustan replied. He glanced over his shoulder to Mebahiah who was maintaining a constant distance of 10 meters between them whenever possible but quickly moved on. Stopping again a minute later, he too observed the environment through his magnoculars. It was the third time he did so, and as they say, third time's a charm.

Yellow to orange swirls appeared on the dark blue background image, Sachiel's hot exhausts producing this unmistakable pattern. She was standing still behind some rocks, most likely waiting for them. "X-II, target spotted, sector Kappa-XII." The hot air trails turned red, with the occasional white hot flare as it started moving. "Target is mobile, assume ourselves discovered."

"Let's not do away with our attempts at stealth just yet." Came the reply.

"My thoughts. Out."

It was not that Sachiel had discovered the marines-to-be, but she had tapped into their vox-frequency and found out they had discovered her by a means she had not considered before. She never had to either, because all the battles she fought up to now were hardly stealthy. She decided to relocate, scanning her surroundings for a more defensible location.

Within minutes, Ofwezto also had her in his sights, and followed their Chaplain silently to her next destination, a lone outcrop of the mossy bedrock that made up most of the island. Zeruel noted he did so quickly, but then a dreadnought generally had a hard time staying hidden anywhere for long.

A few more minutes after that the two recruits met where the rocks ended and the beach started, their position overlooking where they followed Sachiel. Having discussed their approach plan in barely audible whispers, Ofwezto counted down from three... two... one...

The young trainee sprinted out as soon as Forrustan released two half cooked-off smoke grenades, the type often used for signaling purposes also served as a great training grenade when damage was to be avoided.

With a graceful arc they flew towards their intended position, covering Sachiel's position in vision obstructing, bright purple smoke. Using smoke as cover was a tactic often employed by vehicles, which often have arrays of smoke grenade launchers installed on various locations for that exact purpose, but as an infantry tactic it was quite rare amongst any chapter of the Emperor's finest.

Sachiel saw the grenades flying and, being the one who had composed the list of equipment she wanted the recruits equipped with, knew immediately how the young men intended to use them. It was what she would have done herself, and she quickly switched to what her HUD called prey-sense vision system, allowing her to see the heat signatures of her surrounding rather than the standard visual feed her sensorium provided her with. She could still not see all the way through the smoke, but still her effective vision range doubled.

What Ofwezto did then was not something Sachiel expected. Instead of charging through the smoke, satchel charge at the ready, he ran around the outcrop, instead using the smoke as a diversion. While the Chaplain would be watching the smoke for anyone to come through, he would sneak up on the dreadnought from behind.

The tactic would have worked too, if not for Sachiel's audio-sensors picking up on Ofwezto's footsteps as soon as he stepped on the rock. Turning around, she swung her long guns into position and immediately started hammering virtual shells into him in the simulation program. Of course she was only firing blanks from her actual guns, but that made no difference on the deafening noise they made and Ofwezto quickly ducked behind cover.

Covered by the noise of the two twin-linked long-barreled autocannons, Forrustan rushed over to the outcrop himself. He disappeared into the smoke as soon as the firing stopped.

Having only seen Ofwezto, Sachiel got a little paranoid. She got fooled once, she would not be fooled twice. Before the last shell casing hit the ground she had started moving away from the rocky area through one of her flanks. This turned out to be a smart move, one that kept her in the game. Once her black metal feet hit the yellow sandy beach she turned around and kept walking backwards.

By now the smoke had covered most of the outcrop, although it got a lot thinner as well. Forrustan did not expect to be seen inside of it, so at first he thought Sachiel was just laying down covering fire. He crawled down behind a few low rocks and, looking over them, saw that he was mistaken. As soon as he had ducked down, the firing stopped and now he was looking right into the four blackened muzzles of the Chaplain's guns.

The image that represented Forrustan, a gradient from the cold blue of his surroundings to the bright yellow of his uncovered face, moved across Sachiel's field of view, mostly hidden behind rocks but often sprinting out from behind them to move to the next. She fired at him a few more times, but each time she lost her target behind another rock before the shells, had they been real, would have impacted. In reality shrapnel from the explosions would have hurt, if not outright killed, Forrustan, but the program simply refused to register the hits as, technically, they were no hits.

By the time the recruits managed to 'destroy' Sachiel, Ofwezto had been hit 43 times and Forrustan 51, on 12 and 9 different occasions respectively. More importantly, Zeruel and Mebahiah had gathered a good amount of data on their phsyical performance, use of tactics, improvisation and many other aspects they could judge and, as a result, improve through more training.

Sachiel sat in the back of the shuttle, content with the fact Zeruel and Mebahiah both agreed the trip was worth the effort. It was a gamble, the promise she made to Zeruel, if she was completely honest. She did it because Zeruel mentioned having faith in her and her talent. This gamble was a way of testing that faith and, more importantly, whether or not she should have faith in her talent herself. For now, she did.

The other thing she wondered about was the outcome of the training analysis or, more accurately, the tactical errors the recruits had made. Zeruel had once told her that "Guardsmen train until they get it right, Space Marines train until they can't get it wrong." which basically meant they would train for the rest of their lives because "to err is human" and all they could do is minimize those errors. In practice though, a marine's training consisted mostly of fighting real battles, which she thought is most likely what Zeruel liked about the simulation training.

"The Chaplain has requested my presence?" Zeruel asked with joking formality. He descended the few steps into Sachiel's maintenance pit.

Sachiel sat there updating her text-log of the events that day and when Zeruel sat down opposite to her the way he used to, she saved the addition to and answered. "I must admit something to you, Zeruel." She explained about the gamble she made and why.

Zeruel laughed. "You know it's really a chaplain's job to test his brothers, right? I guess it's not entirely the same, but I think you made the right decision."

"You aren't offended?"

"Should I be?"

"I questioned you, doubted you."

"And you should. You are the last line of defence against the corruption of the Great Enemy. If anyone of us is infected with the taint, you are the one to find out. It's not going to be that extreme most of the time, Emperor be praised, but you still need to closely monitor everyone's faith and that includes faith in each other, not just Him on Terra."

"I still feel I shouldn't have mistrusted you. You saved my life of all things. You're a space marine, I'm just... someone who happened to be at the right place at the right time."

"You wouldn't have known without testing. Trust, but never blindly. You have the right to doubt like any of us, for you are one of us, an Astartes, an Angel of Doom regardless of what you once were."

"Thanks. I have one more question then."

"Hmm?"

"Could you voxmail me a copy of the training report once you and Mebahiah worked that out? I might learn something from it myself."

"Oh, of course. I just wanted to send you a few more historical records of the Chapter. Should be enough to keep you from getting bored in the meantime."

"Thanks. I won't keep you from your work any longer, I think Mebahiah needs your help more than I do now."


	13. Chapter 13

I was asked whether I drew Inspiration from Neon Genesis Evangelion. The answer to that is yes. A sharp observation, Doug. Since I didn't intend the story to be too serious in the beginning, I thought I'd just use the names in NGE. After a few chapters though, I decided I should put more effort into the names, and pick suitable ones. I now get them from .com/angelology_angel_names_and pick ones that are suitable, if possible. The Chapter colors are indeed those of Unit-01 as well. (A Unit-02 themed successor chapter would be cool... probably very violent too.)

Also a lot of thanks for taking the effort to review/C&C and the kind words given.

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><p><strong>Chapter 13<strong>

Sachiel sat in her pit, unable to move. Zeruel had sent her the training report as promised. The historical records proved to be much more substantial than she had expected them to be, so she only now opened the voxmail that contained the report. She hoped it was a lengthy one, because she expected be there for quite a while.  
>The Chaplain read the report with great interest, hoping to put together an improved training plan for the next time. It contained details on exactly how the two young recruits performed, what their strong and weak points were and how to use the former to both improve and compensate the latter. Zeruel had evidently put a lot of work in it, which partially explained why he had been so exhausted.<p>

Zeruel being tired was the reason Sachiel was immobilized. After finishing the medicae bay with Mebahiah, he came to her to discuss the details of the report, but sleep deprivation had hit him as soon as he sat down next to her. As a result, he was now leaning against her bulky armor plating, and she was afraid to move, lest she wake him from his well-deserved rest. She knew a Space Marine could stay awake for two whole weeks thanks to the Catalepsean Node implant. Emperor only knows how busy he had been working with Mebahiah those two weeks.

Sachiel minimized the file for a moment and looked down at her saviour. She admired and greatly respected the way he was driven to reach his goals, but also worried a lot that he would overexert himself. She ought to lecture him about taking better care of himself when he wakes up, whenever that would be.  
>It was just when she decided to return to reading the report that Mebahiah entered, expecting to find Zeruel. What he did not expect was Sachiel contacting his in-helmet vox, which gave a connection click under his arm, only audible to him by virtue of the completely silent chamber. He put it on quickly, but not before Sachiel noticed him raising his eyebrow.<br>"Chaplain...?"  
>"He's asleep. If it's me you need then let's vox quietly. If not, I'll have to ask you to come back later."<br>"So I'm guessing he just kept on working despite telling me to rest."  
>"That sounds like Zeruel alright, and on that subject, next time he tries that, remind him he needs his rest as much as you do."<br>Mebahiah chuckled. "I shall, Chaplain. That said, why does he sleep here?"  
>"He came to discuss the report. I'm guessing he didn't even realise how tired he was."<br>"Well, I guess I'll come back tomorrow then." Mebahiah looked up and down Zeruel sleeping in his heavy armor, servo-arms lifelessly hanging down. "Look like you'll be here for a while, sorry Chaplain." He shot her an apologetic look before he was reminded of wearing his helmet.  
>After the Apothecary had left Sachiel looked down again. She was amazed how peaceful the figure at her side looked when he was sleeping. An Astartes, peaceful. She never would have dreamed of the possibility before meeting Zeruel. Just as she began focusing on the report file, Zeruel started snoring.<br>"Great." Sachiel thought with mock-sarcasm. "And here I was thinking he had a cute side to him."  
>She sat there for several hours even after she finished analysing the report, often looking down. It made her wish she had her old body back, so Zeruel could rest his head on her lap while she stroked his hair. That thought made her feel a bit like a girl again for the first time in what seemed forever, but she had no lap, no hands, and perhaps most importantly, Zeruel had no hair. She chuckled at her own joke and that was what woke Zeruel.<br>"Huh, must've dozed off for a second there, sorry."  
>That made Sachiel laugh all the more. "Maybe your definition of a second is different from mine, but in Standard Terran Time you slept around the clock."<br>"I... What?"  
>"I just spoke with mebahiah a few hours ago. You haven't been sleeping at all, have you?"<br>"Well, the medicae bay..."  
>Sachiel cut him off. "I know it's important but so is getting your rest, or you'll end up being the first in line to try out the new facilities. You really need to take better care of yourself."<br>"What's gotten into you?"  
>"You're pushing yourself too hard, you're making me worry. When's the last time you actually had any sleep?"<br>"That would be about... 19 days a- oh. I guess you're right. So, I woke up exactly as I remember sitting down next to you. How did you manage that?"  
>"By not moving."<br>"You sat there for all that time?"  
>"Well after being awake for nearly three weeks I could hardly risk waking you up. And you eh... sorta looked peaceful and uhm... eh.. cute while you were sleeping." Despite her vox-casters being as big and powerful as they are, she spoke barely audibly. "Until you started snoring, that is."<br>"I look what now?" Zeruel was genuinely confused. Too confused to even notice how disturbing such a phrase can sound when spoken over the voice-distorting vox-casters of a dreadnought. "That... that's the first time I heard anyone call me... that. Just what in the Emperor's name makes you think that?"  
>"Eh.. never mind that. More importantly, keep an eye on your daily sleeping habits," Sachiel continues, unrelenting, and put extra emphasis on the word daily. "or would you like me to do that for you?"<br>"Don't worry about it, it's just sleep. I admit 19 days is pushing it a bit but daily is hardly necessary for us Astartes."  
>"It's not 'just' sleep. A good sleeping habit leads to a healthier and happier life."<br>"I'm not particularly concerned with such luxuries in the grand scheme of things."  
>"Even if you go as far as to consider them luxuries they're still important. You need to think on the long term. How will you maintain your current performance if you allow your health to perpetually degrade?"<br>"I can barely handle things on the short term as it is."  
>"Is there nothing you can do to lighten your workload?"<br>"I could if I had my servitors."  
>"Can't say I like those things, but... you probably should find some then. Can't we requisition some from a nearby world?"<br>Zeruel sighed instead of giving an answer, but the words "Oh, yeah." could easily be read on his face regardless.  
>"See? This is why you should get sleep every now and then. You're way too focused on what's in front of you that you can't see anything else. You don't do battle that way either, do you?"<br>"A sharp analogy, but I still don't see what my happiness has anything to do with it."  
>"Happiness is a blessing in it's truest sense. It is the Emperor's reward for those who serve not for the purpose of servitude alone, but to further His goals."<br>"And what would you say those are then?" Scepticism was obvious in his voice.  
>"Does He not suffer daily on His Throne to protect the Imperium, no, Mankind from its enemies? To serve Him is our duty to Him, but through Him also to every human soul in the galaxy. If He on Terra cared not about His subjects, I strongly doubt He would do such a thing for even a minute, let alone ten millennia."<br>"So you're saying it's an indicator that I'm doing my job right."  
>Sachiel let out a mechanical sigh. What in His holy Name did they indoctrinate him with? "If you want to see it as such, that'll do for now. You'll come to understand."<br>Zeruel felt a painful humility. Here he was being scolded by a 15 year old girl, an outsider no less- no, he reminded himself, he was the one who made her an Angel and she was as much part of them as he was. These thoughts were just childish denial of the obvious, he made her chaplain for a reason. He trusted her then and had to do the same thing now it was less convenient just as well.  
>"Very well then." Zeruel sighed. "So, you said you were worried?"<br>"O-of course I'm worried! That's n-natural, isn't it?" It took Sachiel a second or two to realise her attempts to keep herself from blushing were rather pointless. "There's only five of us and all we have is each other. I don't want to see anyone work themselves to death." She quickly added.  
>Zeruel picked up static from Sachiel's vox-casters that sounded surprisingly much like "And especially not you.", but decided not to let her know he heard, mostly because he had no idea how to feel about it. It was not a bad feeling, though.<p>

Two weeks of travel got Zeruel the servitors he needed, no less than a full dozen of them, from a backwater prison world that gave Sachiel the creeps. The only Imperial building there, only slightly better maintained than any others on the planet, was designed to keep people out, rather than in. The reason for that was simple. The planet itself was the prison, the high walls with giant, now cracked aquilas carved into them served only to keep the inmates out of the spaceport. Their heavy plasteel gates had yet to open this century, which only happened to destroy pockets of resistance or settlements that discovered forbidden technology. For the inmates, any technology beyond that of very primitive feudal levels was forbidden.  
>Sachiel walked over the top of the walls while Zeruel went about his business and looked out over the wasteland outside. In the distance she noticed small villages, crude, small houses made from ash-grey wooden logs, the only color of tree she could see on the inhospitable surface of this barely habitable world. It was depressing and she had to constantly remind herself these people committed the worst crimes possible short of outright heresy and had to be banned off entire worlds to protect the societies of the entire sub-sector.<br>Attempting, but failing, to escape the depressing view, she looked up at the red sky. A red giant was the system's only star, the reason for the desolate landscape and end of all life on it soon enough. In a mere two to three millennia, the star would explode and raze this world and those around it, scouring them of all life. She expected nobody to bother evacuating the prisoners.  
>"Anything wrong, my lord?" The PDF trooper escorting her asked.<br>"What a cruel planet this is."  
>"Yes, lord, and it better be to that scum." The female soldier contemptuously indicated the wastelands in front of him with a nod of his head. "But I don't like this place either."<br>"Why did you come to this world, then?"  
>"I'm kind of the weird one out, I guess. Most people are here for the money, plain and simple. Not many other benefits to this job. Everyone has their own reason for needing it, of course. Some send it to their unfortunate families, some do it to afford their rotgut addiction, or pay off debts. Me, I was born here."<br>"People start families even in futureless places like this?"  
>"Very few indeed, but in the end we're still humans. Besides, even the off-worlders say it's not that bad once you get used to the place. I always admired that, you know?"<br>"How so?"  
>"No matter the adversities, humans have the amazing capability to adapt to their environments, and at the same time adapt those environments to themselves."<br>"Amazing indeed. Humans definitely have something to be proud of."

The conversation had cheered her up where the view of Sachiel's surroundings failed to do the same. Zeruel had picked her up and was surprised to find her as cheerful as she was. He asked her about it only after returning to the _Heritage of Zestra III_. Now they were there, on their way through the hardly glorious looking warship. After all this time, the ship was still in a horrible state. Burn marks on the wall behind replaced electronics, bent and dented piping, some sections of the less-used decks still lacking life-support. Restoring all that was a job that took years, by a large mechanicus work-force. A dozen servitors were not going to fully overhaul the _Heritage_ but at least they helped Zeruel take things a little easier.  
>"Something good happen to you down on Yuss?" Zeruel asked casually.<br>"Something good? Why do you ask?"  
>"You seem... I dunno, in a good mood? More confident, happier. It's quite obvious from the way you walk, as if with purpose, towards a destination."<br>"Well, I had a good talk with a woman from the PDF force, the one sent to show me around. Not really sure why they did that, but I guess that's one of the perks that belonging to the Astartes brings. Did you know the people down there still start families despite the environment they're in?" Sachiel continued explaining as Zeruel gave her an interested look, wondering what she was on about. "Humans adapt to things. Extreme things, and do so surprisingly quickly and effectively. Humanity is amazing, and we need to do anything we can to protect it. I need to adapt to my new environment too, and stop lamenting something that happened more than a year ago."  
>"The loss of Zestra III?"<br>"Yes. Say, I never though you'd actually notice things like how I walk, now that I think about it."  
>Zeruel stopped walking for a second. "Hmm. Now that you mention it, I normally don't. Strange, I wonder why. But I'm relieved to see you feel better."<br>"I do. Funny, your guess about how feeling happy is a sign you're doing the right thing might just be closer to the truth than I expected."  
>"Is it now?"<br>The two arrived at Mebahiah's medicae bay, checking up on the two recruits. Ofwezto was sitting on a stainless plasteel table while the apothecary shone a small light into his eyes, noting whatever resulted from that test on a data-slate lying in between various medical tools teh boy was unable to name to save his life. Forrustan meanwhile sat polishing some of the medical equipment while he waited, having offered to be of service.  
>"Don't pauze your work on my behalf, brother, I luckily have not yet need for your services." Zeruel entered the clean white room as Mebahiah immediately turned back to test Ofwezto's patellar reflex. It was now fully suppressed, as it should be. A Space Marine needs full control over his body, proper reflexes taught to the brain instead, while the various implants would take over the function of physical balance. Again he noted this on his data-slate.<br>After looking for a while, Zeruel continued. "I have brought one for you as well, figured you can use one too."  
>"Hmm?" He moved on to the biceps reflex.<br>"A servitor. Has most of the generic medical tools."  
>"Ah, I see. I don't have a use for it now, as I can easily handle those few medical tasks in a day myself."<br>"And we both know it won't stay that way."  
>"True. That is why I thank you for the generous donation." Mebahiah chuckled awkwardly, but nobody reprimanded him for his attempt at humor, one of the things he appreciated about his new Chapter. "And the Brother-chaplain?"<br>"Sachiel wishes to speak to the boys when you're done with them, teach them about the realization he had this morning. I recommend you listen as well, perhaps you understand it better than I do, apparently." The techmarine copied his battle-brother's chuckle.  
>"I will. Ofwezto, hold this for a second."<p>

"How are you feeling now?"  
>"Quite well, Chaplain. It's good to have gone through the next phase." Next to Ofwezto, Forrustan nodded in agreement, each sitting on the large, cold tiles of Sachiel's maintenance bay, where she generally invited people.<br>"This means you're a third of the way now. Brother Mebahiah says your new organs are stable enough, and recommended picking up physical training again." The chaplain had a hard time with the type of training, however. Savage, brutal. She believed battle-brothers should not fight amongst themselves, at least not like this, but she could not deny the effectiveness. "You'll be using these today." She continued as she walked over to a table where various edged weapons were laid out. "Pick any one of them, and step into the circle."  
>On the ground, colored tape marked the edge of a circle. Ofwezto entered it with a pair of clawed weapons, his muscular body reflecting in Forrustan's shield, which formed a pair with his longsword.<br>"First blood, and no further. You need to learn restraint as much as anything else."  
>The young men faced each other, bowing, then assuming a fighting stance. They circled around each other for a few seconds, then Ofwezto came for his silent counterpart, himself announcing his attack with a roar. The back of his left claw deflected the incoming attack while his own strike was stopped by the large shield. He backed off.<br>Then it was Forrustan's turn to take the initiative. His stab was deflected as well, and again his shield protected him from the counter-attack. They were testing each other.  
>This continued for a dozen more times until Sachiel raised her close combat arm and fired her storm bolter at the boys. The rounds were blanks, of course. The recruits turned and looked at Sachiel with a look that completely lacked any understanding.<br>"You generally don't do combat alone, and neither does the enemy. Finish a fight quickly, and try to maintain situational awareness. Start over."

Within seconds, steel flashed again and a drop of blood hit the ground. By the time the two were back in their starting positions for the next rounds, Forrustan's wound had closed and scarred over. His new Larraman's Organ worked exactly like it should.

Sachiel had to put in effort to not step forward and end the fight every time either of them scored a hit. The muscular adolescents had yet to draw a significant amount of blood, but she knew as well as anyone that 'first blood' and 'to the death' are not mutually exclusive. Of course, in order to stop fearing death, one would have to face it on a regular basis. Sachiel steeled herself and continued watching, recording every strike, miss or hit, every dodge, feint and parry, every drop of blood that hit the floor.

The boys were granted a break every 120 minutes, to rehydrate. They've had four such brakes yet and were still going at it in that circle on the floor now covered with drops of sweat and blood. After Sachiel's demonstration, none of the fights lasted more than a minute or two. It was her only intervention. She had the recruits tell her what mistakes they thought they made, and what to do about them, then test their theory in the next round. While recording it all, she never commented on it, and let them find out for themselves whether or not they were right about what they said. Partially because she knew all of two things about melee combat: "One, don't find yourself in it. Two, if you do, start praying very, very hard".

The other reason was that she saw Zeruel use the same method of teaching in the training reports she had asked him for as a reference, and she knew Zeruel was good at close combat. Thinking about it, it made sense. You learn most from your own mistakes, especially when their price is your own blood.

The battles started picking up in length again, for one because Forrustan and Ofwezto were both breathing heavily as exhaustion started to become a bigger enemy than their opponent. That was not the most important reason, however. They started to figure out how to counter even the quickest of the other's blows.

By the end, both of them were covered in cuts and bruises. Ofwezto had an especially nasty stab-wound, which he only now noticed. Forrustan's sword passed all the way through his leg, creating a scar that would probably stay. Despite that, he still got nearly twice the victories of his sword-wielding brother, a testament to his potential as an Assault Marine.

Forrustan took that well, knowing he was a better shot. They lowered their weapons and bowed a last time before putting them on the table where they got them. Throughout they day, they had each used all of them.

"Go and clean the weapons, then visit Brother Mebahiah to see to your wounds. Come back here when you're done."

"Yes Chaplain."

"Zeruel" Sachiel opened a vox-link. "are you busy?"

"Just let me finish this real quick and I'll be there. How did they do?"

"Well they just kept going and going. They seemed to lose quite a bit of blood though they weren't particularly bothered by it. I sent them to Mebahiah anyway, he asked me to do so."

"I imagine he did. New implants need to be monitored carefully. Even fully developed Astartes need to be checked on every now and then... Now that I mention it, I'm overdue for a checkup myself. I guess I'll pay him a visit later." Zeruel thought for a second. "Before you get angry at me again." He quickly added, laughing, before Sachiel could reply.

"Hey, I wouldn't have done that if you took better care of yourself."

"Yeah, yeah, I know... There, done. I'll be there in five."

The techmarine entered the maintenance bay just as the two recruits walked out, exchanging greetings along the way, after they had finished cleaning the weaponry now carefully wrapped in rags soaked in metal preserving oils.  
>Zeruel still wore a large leather apron over his armor, which Sachiel recognized as part of his welding equipment. It protected his armor's paint job against the white-hot droplets of metal and the UV-radiation that tends to turn the dark purple into a much paler tint. The welder's apron was well used, full of burn marks and ragged around the edges, patched up in various places.<br>"From what I can tell they've figured out a lot for a day's training. It seemed to help to debrief after every other round. I'm no expert on it though, so you better see for yourself."  
>The boys only ever heard the first sentence before the thick doors closed behind them, unaware of their chaplain's secret. They cheered up from hearing the compliment she seemingly made.<br>"Got you beat again." Ofwezto grinned, arms folded behind his head. He hardly seemed to notice his fresh scars much, or just cared that little.  
>"My turn tomorrow." Was all his companion had to say. Forrustan rubbed one of the deeper cuts inflicted on him, covered in pale white tissue. Not in pain however, he was thinking about the round in which he got it.<br>He had taken the wound on purpose, and inflicted a greater one in return. Technically Ofwezto won that match because he struck first, but the look on his face had been priceless. He wondered what the Chaplain would say about that when he got back from the medical examination.  
>"Oh right, we'll be shooting tomorrow. You're probably right then." Forrustan was surprised to see his fellow recruit smile when he said that. He was envious of the confidence the young man seemed to possess. Well, it's been like that since the day they were born on Zilvesta, so it would probably never change.<br>The pristine, fresh-painted white walls of the medicae bay came into full view as the recruits stepped through the door. They found Mebahiah already waiting for them. "Well then, let's get started."

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><p>BTW, some of you may have noticed in the previous chapters (9 iirc) the similarity between the Dreadnought Brother Zilvestus' name and the that of the recruiting world Zilvesta. He was given his name by the Sons of Orar being the first marine recruited from the planet. His being semi-alive to this day in the form of a dreadnought is a testament to the potential of Zilvesta's recruits. Just a little detail I decided to mention after all.<p> 


	14. Chapter 14

So it seems the link in my previous chapter's foreword is broken. FFN may not like linking I guess, so I won't try to fix it. (It also seems to love screwing with layouts and text styling... websites shouldn't have a will of their own, Emperor damn it. A.I. is HERESY.)

I was asked if Sachiel is an Ironclad Dreadnought. As awesome as they are, she is not. She is a Chaplain Dreadnought, most often fitted as a modified Mortis-pattern Rifleman. (Kinda Mary-sue, yeah I know, but I didn't really plan the Chaplain thing, it just happened.) Also all Dreadnoughts are "voices-in-boxes", not just Ironclads, which are just like any other Dreadnought but fitted with a load of extra armor plating and close-ranged weaponry.

Don't worry about me abandoning this fic. Updating is just slow because I'm completely addicted to World of Tanks, Fallen Earth and S.T.A.L.K.E.R.

Muchos Gracias for all the positive comments. It's good to know there are people dumb enough to enjoy my horrible writing. Just kidding of course. :P

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><p><strong>Chapter 14<strong>

The Emperor's work is never finished, especially for His finest. This was made evident by a broadcast picked up as the Heritage of Zestra III emerged from the Warp after one of its short jumps.

"..nyone wh...ear us, w...nned dow...n this worl...ncoming att...ranid swar...alling all Imper...orces...uesting reinforcem...is anyo...ut there? We...ocated on Ly...epeat, loca... ynn VIII...yone assist?"

"And they've been repeating that since before we exited the Warp." Mebahiah commented as he thumbed the mute-rune on the comms control panel. "I don't think I need to overlay the repeated message for you to figure out how serious the matter is."

"Not exactly, no." Zeruel answered. "Try to contact the sender of that message and ask the full extent of the resistance. Alternate with broadcasting whatever information we have, see if we can rally more troops for this cause." He had mixed feelings about the matter. He was obviously worried about what they might face and whether they could handle it, because the Tyranids most definitely bring more friends than he would. On the other hand, he was excited to finally walk the battlefield again after spending weeks welding the ship back together and, while he did not dislike doing that, it was starting to get repetitive.

"Beware, however. This might just as well be a trap. We have walked into plenty of those before. I need not remind you of Zilvesta, I assume. Our enemies are getting smarter with every revolution Holy Terra makes." Sachiel added. She stared out the bridge's thick windows, into the void without speaking to anyone in specific.

"Good call, Chaplain. Meanwhile, I'll move use closer. Getting a stronger signal is at least as important as getting there in time to save anyone." Zeruel brings up the digital librarium and searches for the coordinates of Lynn VIII. "L.. L... Ly... Lynn, there." He mumbles to himself. "Throne..."

"What is it?" Sachiel's vox boomed through the bridge, her sensitive sensorium having picked up the near-silent curse. She knew it was rather pointless to ask and that Zeruel would most likely share the exact nature of the problem the next second or so, but she did so in a reflex.

"They're way outside the range of even the most powerful vox-transmitter that I know of. Either there's some really powerful archeotech to be found, or you might just be right about it being a trap. Records do state heavy Mechanicus presence on the planet for the last four centuries, but that alone says nothing, of course." His voice, Sachiel noted, carried preparation for disappointment. She could understand that.

"If we're going to walk into a trap, at least we do so knowingly. We must have backup plans ready with every step we take, keep as many options open as possible, rely only on ourselves. If we accept help, make sure it is a redundancy."

"You sound like you've already decided to accept the mission." Zeruel was slightly surprised. You sounded exactly like an Astartes just now, he thought.

"I was not made into a dreadnought to idly wait for the bad things to go away while people are dying. You know what they say about idleness."

"Yes, I do. Let's hope these engines can really be pushed as far as I think they can." Zeruel pushed levers forwards, pressed runes and turned dials with both hands and even with his large servo-arms, controlling them with the fine precision only the highest quality MIU implants and training can realise. He would flip tiny switches made for normal human fingers using the giant metal claws even as he walked over to the different consoles, carefully monitoring the engines as he tried to seek their limit.

Almost as fast as Zeruel had hoped, a warp portal opened in front of the Heritage. The jump lasted only a second, as it was never meant to make the trip at once. Even if it were, anywhere within vox-range, regardless of what pre-heresy technology or daemonic sorcery might be responsible for its magnitude, would be close enough to jump in no more than a second or five.

The ship exited two planets closer to the center of the Lynn system, their target being on the far end of it. The broadcast was different now, the distance traveled being equal to several light-minutes, that much Mebahiah could tell, but not its contents. As Zeruel feared, solar storms were interfering. He hoped the message had changed for the better, but had little faith in it. Minutes can make a world of difference when dealing with the 'nids, and generally time lost also meant lives lost.

"Prepare to jump once more."

The engines were already increasing their cyclic rate, producing a sound that rose in pitch as lights of various colors started burning on the control panels just like they had done the jump before. Reactor core temperature, cyclic rate, cooling duty cycle and various other indicators that made sense only to one trained by either the Adeptus Mechanicus or the Imperial Navy.

Apparently, the lights meant the disapproval of the vessel's Machine Spirit, as Sachiel overheard the techmarine whispering apologetic words to it, resulting in the opening of a second portal. another second and a half later the Angels' ship was positioned much more favorably for the vox-performance, but moving closers always comes with a risk, especially when potential traps are involved.

"Suspend broadcast upon re-materialization." Zeruel had told the Apothecary during the jump. Engines powered down and the ship's auspex array was switched to passive mode, but detecting little more than debris around Lynn VIII. For a moment, the waited and listened, but all they picked up was the broadcast from the Imperial Guard.

"This is trooper Vucced calling all Imperial forces traveling through the Lynn system. Our defenses are under heavy assault by Tyranids on Lynn VIII. We need immediate reinforcements or His world will be lost. I repeat, containment of Tyranids is failing, need immediate reinforcements."

"Given our current position, that message was sent 17 minutes ago. We can be on the ground in another 24." Zeruel paused and let out a long sigh. "That means 'immediate' is going to mean at least 41 minutes. That means the containment will have broken and the xenos have had a chance to spread over the surface which means the three of us will make little difference no matter how much firepower we can bring to bear."

The silence was suffocating, especially to Sachiel. "I'm sorry brothers, we are too la-"

Zeruel was interrupted by a strong auspex signal. A ship had exited the warp right in orbit of Lynn VIII. Of course, that signal too must have been delayed 17 minutes by virtue of sheer distance. Upon closer inspection, it was an Imperial ship. What it was doing alone Emperor only knew, but there was little other possibility than it having responded to the call for help.

"There's our chance!" Sachiel called out, spurring Zeruel into action. "Answer their call, brother, we're moving."

"Yes Chaplain!" The marines answered in unison, both realising a second later it was their indoctrinated obedience of authority and orders that just kicked in. It did not hurt that both of them had already drawn the same conclusion and deduced the appropriate course of action themselves. "Have we made sure to prepare our recruits for battle yet?" Mebahiah added after his moment of realization.

With the loud footsteps of her heavily armored chassis, Sachiel exited the bridge and made way to their two Astartes-to-be. "I'm on it." Half a minute later she called out to them through the door to their quarters and the reply came near instantly with the door opening a second later.

"Chaplain." Both boys bowed briefly before inquiring as to what was happening, what with all the Warp jumps in such rapid succession. "Is there something going on?"

"There is. You will gather your gear right now. This is not a drill. Be at my maintenance bay in 5. You will be briefed there."

Zeruel voxed her that he would be there to equip the most suitable load-out for the mission and he was by the time Sachiel arrived there too. This because the only habitable quarters for the scouts were right at the other side of the Destroyer warship.

As Ofwezto entered the bay Zeruel was half-way done removing Sachiel's left close combat weapon, lifting it off and to the side with the ceiling mounted crane. Forrustan followed a few seconds later, barely on time.

"Scouts, today shall be your first battle. In it you shall be tested, by it you shall be strengthened. By now you have received the training of a dozen Guardsmen. That means I expect you to fight like a dozen Guardsmen." The Chaplain paused for a moment as Zeruel attached a missile pod with a loud clang.

"Your hand will not be held as you try out this new thing called combat. You will be expected to operate as independently as necessary. Despite it being your first, you will fight this battle and every one thereafter as if it is your last. Your last chance to show Him on Terra what you are. Now, personally, I find that a little harsh." Now her right arm was removed, forcing her to pause again. It was timed perfectly, if confusing the two young men had been her goal. After all, who expects their Chaplain to be such a softy?

"Very harsh, even. But that is why Space Marines exist, and to become a Space Marine you must show how you can take such harsh conditions and forge a victory from them. That is what you are meant to do. What you are made to do." The look of confusion changed to determination while a fourth and final clang indicated the attachment of a weapon Sachiel had only trained with a select few times.

After looking at her Assault Cannon, spinning it a few revolutions to pull the first round into one of the chambers, Sachiel continued. "As for the mission, we are about to assist Guardsmen of the 26th, 43rd, 44th and 51st Lynnian regiment and their recent but potentially insufficient reinforcements of the 333rd and 412th Pollonian. At least, that is what our admittedly outdated vox-code data banks say. They are currently dug in around the Northern pole of the planet, where Tyranids have landed to invade. We have little reason to believe any of these regiments as at anything near full-strength, so their long lines are stretched thin and the xenos could break through soon. As an attacking force, they can choose where to focus their strike, but as far as we are concerned that works in our favor, provided they don't split up into too many groups."

This pause had been the first one that was accompanied by silence as Sachiel allowed the information to sink in. "As you can imagine we shall reinforce one such an area, and pray there are no more. You have... 8 minutes to function check your equipment and make other final preparations, after that you will be at the shuttle. Dismissed." In her mind, she sighed, still not feeling comfortable with the authority she had been given. Sure, the decision had been a logical one, but it was nonetheless an entirely new experience, and it was exactly that which she felt she lacked to make a worthy superior.

The six barrels of the Assault Cannon gleamed in the multi-colored light of the stained glass windows, but that was not the reason Sachiel was staring at it. Instead, she worried. A weapon like this comes with severe tactical limitations that diminish the theoretical firepower it can bring to bear, the most critical of which is the speed with which the cannon depletes its ammunition supplies. Another problem is that the barrels wear out at a rate proportional to which the supply of shells does.

Neither were the cause for her concern, however. The Guard could supply more ammunition. If there is one thing they have even more of than they do fighting men and women, it's ammunition, and Zeruel was packing a set of replacement barrels right that moment. She worried about friendly fire. The gun's rate of fire meant that even a slight slip up could mean the death of a dozen men, especially in the often chaotic close quarters style combat that the Tyranids prefer. She feared it even above the idea of a Carnifex ripping through her armor like a power sword through butter and ending what was left of her life right there and then.

The dreadnought stood next to the shuttle waiting for the recruits before she had even realised she started moving. She hoped she could avoid talking to anyone, in an attempt to not show the nervousness that would have made her once girly legs shake visibly for mere seconds before giving out under the pressure and resulting in her dropping to the floor, unable to move. In the midst of thanking the Emperor for her chassis' inability to do that, and praying to Him for the protection of His servants whom she would fight alongside of, Sachiel barely registered Mebahiah had started talking to her.

"Chaplain, we're ready to board."

"After you." She answered, deciding that if she had so speak anyway, she would keep it as brief as possible. One could arguably say she was in luck, as there was little time to talk when they set down on the half-iced over grassy fields of Lynn VIII's Northern polar region.

"By the Emperor" A trooper called out as the shuttle hatch opened. "we're saved! Ser-" the man trips over his own feet in a hurry but quickly picks himself up and continues his sprint back towards the hurriedly dug trenches.. "Sergeant! It's... the..."

"Speak up trooper Vgarr. Even if I had the patience, the 'nids sure don't."

"Sorry sergeant. Astartes have arrived. The Emperor's Angels of Death have come to res-"

"Angels of Doom, to be precise." Mebahiah deadpanned.

The trooper's eyes open wide as the apothecary stood right behind him, unnoticed in his excitement. The sergeant did the same as Sachiel's huge black figure emerged from the shuttle.

At that time, more and more guardsmen gathered around, whispering excitedly amongst each other. Not only them, though. While even the sergeants of the few squads that had gathered were amazed, the Commissar that noticed the commotion and was anything but amazed. Rather, his face looked like he was about to explode any minute, as would the chambered round of his bolt pistol if people lacked the intelligence to shut the hell up right this instant.

"I can hear everything you are whispering." Sachiel said aloud before anyone had even seen the impending commissarial doom. Her words had the same effect the bolt pistol would have had, minus the dead guardsman or two.

After a moment of silence, the air filled with the tangible terror of men who realised they made possibly one of the biggest mistakes in their lives, Sachiel decided to cut them some slack. "Just pulling your legs. My apologies, guardsmen. While I can indeed hear everything, it concerns me little, but would you rather have been silenced by that angry looking man behind you?"

The commissar, Klint his name was, now looked calmer and more calculating, but everyone who dared look him in the eyes say he was still watching every last soul present. At his side was now the platoon's Lieutenant, neatly shaven even in these times. He stepped forward and addressed his men.

"Boys, I understand you don't get to see a Marine every day, but get your asses back to your posts before the Commissar decides I fail at keeping my men under control and executes me."

That got him a few laughs that were barely enough to lighten the mood, and all of them marched back into the frozen trenches, saluting the Angels as they passed.

"Lieutenant, appraise us of the situation, if you please. Why is there no fighting going on?" Zeruel asked.

"Sir." He saluted before answering, his hands forming the Aquila over his chest. "We now believe the xenos who attacked this position were merely scouts for a larger force. When the attack came we all prepared to lay down our lives in His name, but as the battle progressed I noted our casualties were significantly lower than even our most conservative estimates and the big beasts we expected never showed up. In addition to that, when we beat about half of them, the others ran. I've never seen 'nids run away before. They're either getting smarter or more cowardly, and Klint might just shoot me for even suggesting the latter."

"The day I underestimate an enemy is the day I die." The commissar commented.

"Indeed it is, Commissar." The techmarine agreed. "We have noticed a similar trend amongst the Orks, of all races, but this is not the time for discussion. Let's pray the xenos found this place to be a weak spot, or our presence may just be wasted."

"Brother, I recommend we maintain optimal mobility regardless."

"Yes, Chaplain. Pray for the best but prepare for the worst. Lieutenant, what is available in the way of transport?"

The Commissar, meanwhile, went to oversee the men getting back into their positions before moving on to inspect other platoons. He must be a busy man, Sachiel thought.

"A Chimera for me and my command squad. That's basically it, sir. If I may be so rude to ask, could we ride with you when you call down the rest of your forces?"

"We..." Zeruel started, but had trouble finding the right words. "We're it. There is no rest. We have no vehicles either, which is why I asked."

"Pardon me, sir?"

"We were not given any for this mission." Sachiel added, a white lie to keep the destruction of the Chapter a secret. Sachiel had asked Zeruel why he felt dishonored by the event when she found him lamenting the fact during their first days on the Heritage. She chose to respect his answer. "We must do this by ourselves. No reinforcements. We believe we are being tested, but whether or not there is any truth to those beliefs is a pointless discussion at this point."

"That's a shame. Could really have used a few of those Land Raiders for the upcoming battle."

"You know about our sacred vehicles?"

"Yes sir. A wreck of one remains on this world of a battle long past. None of our tech-priests dared touch it, however. Afraid of defiling it, they say, but a small group of them chose to try and salvage a Predator tank found close to it instead, led by our regimental Magos Vyganturan."

"That's the 44th, if I remember correctly."

"Ah yes sir. Did I forget to introduce myself? Emperor forgive my rudeness."

"Then I pray for forgiveness for the same. I am Techmarine Zeruel of the Angels of Doom."

"Lieutenant Burkis Weber, 44th Lynnian Infantry Regiment." The two exchanged salutes again.

"Very well, Lt. Weber. Can you have someone bring me to the Magos? I'd like to speak to him."

"Going to attempt to salvage the Land Raider, sir?"

"Better than waiting, don't you say?"

"And here are the remains of the Land Raider." The red-robed Magos pointed to what at first sight seemed to be no more than a pile of corroded plasteel. Zeruel understood immediately why the Magos had no intention to touch it, and that was not just because this type of tank was outside her field of expertise.

That's another thing that surprised the techmarine. He has trouble recalling the last time he met a female magos on a battlefield. Usually they were more the studious, theoretical types, or interested in less dangerous jobs, mainly because the logical views of the Priesthood were quick to point out that males, being physically stronger, are better suited for the purpose. While of course that is limited only to little-augmented techpriests, by the time they have the mechanical body to compensate, they have already chosen their way to serve the Machine God.

Zeruel walked around the vehicle. Sure, it was complete, but many of the parts had rusted together, such as the track links and side hatches. The weapons might serve as a source of spare parts at best. He grabbed the handle of one of the hatches with a servo-arm and pulled. Magos Ilya Vyganturan cringed as the metal croaked and even more so when the hatch finally gave way with a loud metallic clang as the tension that held it in place was released in an instant.

"Are you out of your mind?" Ilya nearly screamed when she dared look again.

"What do you mean, Magos?"

"Do you always come in and wreck stuff wherever you go?" She pointed to the hatch.

"Im just going to take a look inside, calm down." Zeruel said as he climbed into the tank.

Ilya walked over to the vehicle, pushing aside one of her servitors in the process, and stuck her head through the hatch where Zeruel entered with the intention to lecture him about potential harm to the machine spirit, but he spoke first.

"Looks like the engine is slagged, but the cogitator banks should work fine still. Omnissiah be praised, those were the only thing I would have no way to fix."

"W-what?"

"Alright, let's take her apart. Could you instruct your servitors to start with the suspension? I'll go get my own from our shuttle and put them to work as well. For the engine I'm going to need a few more capable hands. Can you spare any enginseers?"

"Are you suggesting we strip, repair and rebuild it before the 'nids launch their attack?"

"No, I'm suggesting we try. There's little more we can do do right now and we need transport."

"We're already salvaging the Predator. The weapons are hardly useful anymore so it'll be a Rhino by the time we're done."

"Just give me anyone not working on that, then. No need in wasting this opportunity."

"I don't have anyone left." Vyganturan's answer was quite curt.

"Then what about you? Surely you know how to work an engine."

"Then who is going to oversee the enginseers?"

"I'm sure a Magos of your caliber has trained them enough to do just fine by themselves." Zeruel grinned under his helmet. He was hardly the most socially skilled, but even he knew how to make use of someone's pride to convince them. It was something he would not normally do, but since this concerns a high ranking techpriest, it was her own fault for taking physical augments before those that suppress such pointless emotion.

When he returned with his servitors, the tracks were laid down in parts and the engine was removed from the wreck, ready to be stripped and repaired. He started working on the hydraulics himself, draining the oil and disconnecting the cylinders that operated the front assault ramp and the hull and sponson mounted weapons.

Meanwhile the other Angels were on the lookout for an impending attack. For now, the coast seemed clear, unlike the skies. Thanks to the light pollution it was not the purest white, but the flakes slowly falling from the sky were definitely snow. A thin layer of it formed the sandbags of the trenches.

It melted whenever it landed on Mebahiah's powered armor, but he had to wipe it from his bolter every few minutes, as did the two scouts. They were somewhat under-dressed, but managed to hide the fact well. Slowly the snow would cool down Sachiel's armor, until it would stop melting and formed a thin layer of off-white on top of her as well. She spun her cannon so it would not freeze over, double checking the safety.

Sachiel walked alongside the trenches, straying no more than a kilometer in either direction of where they had landed. There was little to see, however. Just trenches. They were not deep or wide enough for her along most of their length, but even if they were she had a better view from the higher ground and she would actually be less vulnerable outside than in.

Mebahiah leaned his back against the rear trench wall, his arms folded and seeming bored or just waiting, but in reality he was silently praying and preparing himself mentally even if he hardly looked the part. He had instructed Ofwezto and Forrustan to do the same. They decided to do so in the shuttle, which, while the ramp was down, still sheltered them from the cold wind. In battle their physical activity would keep them warm enough, but in times of rest it was better not to tempt fate, regardless of their heightened resistance as Astartes-to-be.

"Sir." A guardsman woke Mebahiah out of his trance-like state of prayer. It took him a second to respond as a result.

"What is it?"

"It's our turn for a break. We uh.. wondered if you'd like to join us for some recaf. It's not as good as what the officers get, but it's warm and there's plenty of it."

"Sure, why not." The apothecary answered after a second of contemplating the offer.

The guardsman, trooper Ellias, stuck up his thumbs to his squad mates to indicate success. "I shall go and invite your eh... colleagues... too."

"No."

"Excuse me, sir?"

"It's fine if you bring them some recaf, but do not otherwise disturb them during their preparation. This will be their first battle. The Chaplain does not require any sustenance, but may enjoy the company. I shall ask him myself." After a pause he continued. "The Chaplain politely declines your offer, but said he would consider it an honor to do so with those who fought alongside him after the xenos have been defeated."

"A good motivator, your Chaplain."

"That's why he is the Chaplain."

The other men from the squad already sat around a simple fire, a tripod holding a pot with recaf over it. Ellias sat down next to one of his buddies, who made room for him and pulled out his canteen to scoop the hot drink out of the pot. Bigger than his metal mug, he considered it ideal for the Space Marine, besides the fact little else was available. After passing it along he filled his mug with the brew and warmed his hands with it, as it was still too hot to drink.

It was a strange experience for Mebahiah. It was unusual to make contact of this nature with allied forces, especially with simple guardsmen. It was thanks to Sachiel that they established such relatively informal contact, and Mebahiah was not yet sure whether he liked it, but it could be worse, he guessed.

The Chaplain was always the friendly type, unusual in its own right. Not that Chaplains tended to be anti-social, on the contrary, but they did maintain a professional distance at all times. It had taken him a good long while to get used to that, but rather than for honor and glory as he was taught, he found he might just fight for his brothers as well, and not just because it's the right thing to do. He found the word brother to mean more in this Chapter than the one he came from.

In retrospect, comrade would have been a better term for his old battle-brothers, while his new ones felt more like family. It felt pleasant and accepting, but he wondered worriedly if Space Marines could really function that way when their numbers would start to grow. It would probably start to hold them back at some point, hesitant to let a brother die even when the costs of saving him would be higher than his life. Would that really be alright? An acceptable price to pay? For now though, such long-term worries mattered little, and Mebahiah was more concerned with what common ground he and the guardsmen had to converse about.

Ofwezto had no such problems. "How many do you think you'll kill? I bet there's gonna be plenty to just keep shooting."

Forrustan shrugged. "Dunno."

"What, you not excited?"

"Are you?"

"Of course. We get to prove our skills, proudly do battle for the glory of the Chapter and free recaf." The youngster raised his cup to reinforce his point. "You don't like recaf?"

"It's not about whether I like it or not."

"Then what? Tell me, bro."

"It's a job, plain and simple. I go out there, I earn my keep, I return. What's there to like about these thrice-damned creatures? Our hatred is all they deserve."

"Whoa there, bro. That's some class A negative waves right there. You got a grudge against these guys or something? Haven't even seen them before."

"Xenos are xenos. If one kind can... forget about it." Forrustan looks away, scowling.

"I see, it happened to you too. I guess most of us lost one person or another." Ofwezto sat down next to his only squad mate. "For what it's worth, I don't think they would've wanted you to become like this."

"Do I look like I don't know that! We're Astartes now. We gave up the privilege of a good life and I think that's a small price to pay."

"Hey bro, take it easy. I'm on your side, alright? Listen, it's good to hate the xenos and all, but that's something for on the battlefield."

"Where does it look we are? Just leave me alone already if you don't have anything mission-related to say."

Ofwezto was about to retort, but decided against it. It wasn't his business anyway, as much as he hated to admit it. He figured his breath was better spent reciting prayers and litanies to his Godwyn-pattern holy bolter.

* * *

><p>So here I decided to do a little more character development for Mebahiah and the recruits. There's a bit more for our favorite apothecary because he's been around longer and thus more deserving of it. But with that delay I also wanted to illustrate he is a bit slow to adapt, and a bit unsure about things that change. He doesn't really know what to do with these guardsmen either, but hey, Chaplain's unspoken orders, right? Who is he to question 'his' decisions?<p>

I have a rough idea of how I want the battle against the 'nids to go, but it's the details that take the time. The conversations, thoughts, descriptions, etc. I'm not going to give anything away just yet, just be patient. :3


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